Drifting Through Time
by ShatteredRhapsody
Summary: Everyone knew that Luna Lovegood could see things. Just how far she could see was the question. Magic never applied to the Lovegoods the same way it applied to everyone else. Drabble fic, in no particular order.
1. Contiguous

con·tig·u·ous  
Adjective  
1) touching; in contact.  
2) in close proximity without touching; near.  
3) adjacent in time: _contiguous events_

Thorin was young when he first saw the ghostly apparition pass through the treasury; his family's kingdom was prosperous in food and riches. His cousin, Glóin, was a well-trusted banker and was showing him where the jewels their people crafted were deposited. He had just passed a hill of what looked like sapphires when a small child of man peeked around the hill. She was small and frail-looking. Then again most creatures that weren't of dwarven origin tended to look weak. She had pale blonde hair and glassy blue eyes.

"Hullo," her soft voice drifted towards him like flowers on a breeze.

"How did you get here, little one?"

The rest of her emerged and she wore an odd-looking garb. It was a cross between a dress of some kind and a robe; it was the color of the sky at dusk, all hues of oranges, reds, and faint hints of purple.

"I f'llowed m'mama," she mumbled as her tiny hand fit into his as he led her away from the cold of the treasury.

Thorin shrugged off his outer coat to wrap it around her. She was no apparition as her touch was real, but by Aulë was she tiny! Not even dwarflings were ever so small.

"Where is your mother now?" He wasn't aware of any dignitaries of Man that were to be visiting the mountain; Balin would have mentioned it to him at breakfast today.

"Oh! There she is!" The child pointed to nothing in particular before she slipped out of the coat and took off running. "Mama!"

"Wait!" He followed after her and watched as she faded and vanished before his very eyes.


	2. Triumvirate

tri·um·vi·rate  
Noun  
1) any group or set of three.  
2) any association of three in office or authority.

It wasn't an often occurrence that the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood would come for a visit in the Greenwood. Nor was it an often occurrence for them to sit for tea with King Thranduil and his son. And it was certainly rare for said son to spill tea all over the front of his tunic because he thought he was hallucinating.

"Ada! There's a child in the room!"

"Legolas...are you _sure _you're drinking tea?"

Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Ada, I'm sure. But this is not a jest! There's a child wearing a dress like the night sky and she's hiding behind Lady Galadriel's chair!"

Thranduil's eyes snapped open at that. His son had better not be trying to embarrass him in front of important people again. But his words triggered something; a whispered rumor that was slowly making its way across the kingdom of Erebor and the Greenwood: a ghost child who wore odd clothes and lingered near royalty.

"Why, hello there, little one. Wandered from your mother again, have we?" Galadriel spoke softly as a small hand tugged on the ends of her hair. She knew of this child since her presence felt odd to her the first time she visited Middle Earth. When Galadriel had glimpsed what looked like the ghost of a child in her mirror, she started to pay more attention to the happenings near the Lonely Mountain.

"Not on purpose!" A small voice piped up as the child stepped into full view.

She was a child of man, much like the rumors promised, although she appeared older than what was said. This was a child of at least seven winters; the rumors said she had to be at least four winters during her first appearance, but that was months ago.

Celeborn knelt beside the strange girl and ran a gentle hand over her pale locks of hair. "And what brings you to us, little moon?" For that's what she looked like, wearing a dress of the night sky with her pale skin and hair lightly glowing.

Thranduil was also curious to hear why she came to his kingdom and not the dwarves'. He also was curious to why it was Legolas who noticed her first, and not himself or the others.

The child giggled softly and pulled away from Celeborn. She skipped towards Thranduil and Legolas, her feet barely touching the ground as she launched herself at the King to climb into his lap. Thranduil was a bit stunned since he honestly couldn't remember the last time he had one so small sitting on him.

"They 'ave hair like mine and mama's! But theirs is so much more pretty!" She gave Thranduil's locks a quick tug before she left his lap to poke at Legolas' sides. When he looked down at her, she smiled toothily and blinked her cloudy blue eyes at him. "We'll play next time won't we, brother?"

Before he could even form a reaction, she tilted her head as if she were listening to something and with a quick nod, she ran towards the direction of the sound, leaving the three Elvish rulers and a sputtering princeling behind.


	3. Phenom

phe·nom  
noun; _slang__  
_a phenomenon, especially a young prodigy: a twelve-year-old tennis phenom.

Luna couldn't remember when she realized the games and adventures she pretended to have were real. If she had to pin-point her sharpest memory, she'd pick the first time she saw her mother perform magic. Now, she was positive she'd seen her parents perform magic before, but nothing like the magic her mother played with. And her mother did like to play with magics best left alone-or so the neighbors told her after the funeral.

But the magic Luna witnessed wasn't just swishes of a wand or swirls of color; it was...well, _alive._ When she would hide behind a desk or a flower pot, she could actually feel the way the magic breathed against her skin and cloaked her in a warm embrace. Her mother used chalk to draw symbols of all kinds and she dropped colored stones everywhere. Every time her mother finished working on whatever it was she was doing, the air around her never changed. It stayed as heavy and thick with ambient magic as when she began and that, Luna thought, must have been when the magic began to cling tight.

She was four or five when she followed one of her mother's "expeditions" into their forest of a backyard. One second there was dirt beneath her toes and the next there was hard stone. Instead of seeing trees and feeling the wind play through her hair, Luna saw mountains of jewels and rivers of gold emerging from rock. She tilted her head back to stare up and up and was in awe at how it twisted all around her. She remembered reaching out to touch it-even though she knew it was too high up to feel it-and felt her fingers tangle in the softest thread she had ever felt. Her young eyes watched what looked like the magic her mummy played with reached out to her; it wrapped around her from the roots of her hair and down to splash against her toes.

That was definitely one of her favorite memories. But so was the delightful tea party she interrupted when she was eight and a half years old. This time, she wandered on her own. She found the soft, slivers of thread on her own and latched onto it with everything she had. She had shut her eyes tight when she felt herself tumble forward and her feet once again met cold stone. She briefly wondered if she'd see the man with big, warm coat again, but she was even more surprised to see tall, _glowing_ adults.

And they did glow! They glowed almost like the fireflies back home did: soft pulses of light that fluttered around. The lady with the nice hair reminded her of her mummy; she had a kind smile and warm eyes. She guessed the other man who called her "little moon" must have been the lady's husband; he felt like a nice person too.

But the mean-looking one...the one who stared at her much like her father did when he caught her sneaking to her room with cookies, he actually didn't feel so mean. There was a nearly identical, yet younger looking version of himself seated next to him. Now that one looked funny! _  
_

_Like a fish out of water,_ Luna thought to herself with a giggle. Oh, she remembered their faces well before she heard the jingle of bells that signaled it was time to go back home.

In truth, she almost wished she didn't go home that day. She wished she ignored the bells and stayed to enjoy the tea with the nice people who knew her name. Sighing, Luna placed the bouquet of odd flowers onto the grave. She watched as the dandelions that grew nearby were met with a sharp gust of wind. Her gaze followed the floating seed heads and a part of her wanted to follow them so badly, but she couldn't. There were more pressing matters to attend to. Her father was going to take her to Diagon Alley today to shop for school supplies and Luna really wanted to visit Gringotts.

She was determined to know if the gem she found all those years ago was actually _real._


	4. Eire

Eir·e  
noun  
1) The Irish name of Ireland

Luna wondered when exactly it was her mind started to wander.

If she had to guess, she'd think it was the day she stepped foot onto the Hogwarts castle grounds. Sweet Circe, but the _magic_ that flowed around her made her feel like someone has slipped her a drug while she was on the train. Her heart was ready to burst from her chest and dance a jig; she almost couldn't contain what almost felt like madness from escaping her.

And when she first walked _into_ the castle?

She nearly swooned from the pressure alone. The air felt heavy and thick with humidity and a light scent of cinnamon and sandalwood. It took her a few years to realize that Hogwarts actually had its own scent and that the scent was the castle's way of letting her know they were mutually aware of one another.

"Luna? Dear heart, are you coming in for supper or not? Bilbo is about to burst his buttons eating the food!"

The clouds cleared from her eyes and Luna slowly turned from staring at the rolling green hills of the Shire towards the loving couple who stared at her in exasperation.

"Hm?" She inquired loftily and giggled when Bungo huffed before bodily dragging her into the smial, mumbling about how one shouldn't stand outside during the rain when a home with a warm fire was steps away.

"'una!" chirped a young fauntling with copper hair and green eyes. He had drool dribbling down the side of his mouth and mashed potatoes in his hair. Luna laughed and lifted him into her arms. Maybe letting her mind wander wasn't so bad.

After all, all the wandering it did tended to find the happiest of memories for her.


	5. Venerable

ven·er·a·ble  
adjective  
1) commanding respect because of great age or impressive dignity; worthy of veneration or reverence  
2) impressive or interesting because of age, antique appearance, etc.

Most children would usually be startled to fall asleep in the hollow of an oak tree and wake up amidst the branches of a moving tree, but Luna was not most children. In fact, she quite liked trees. The ones behind her house were often her only comfort after her mother passed away; their branches were her playmates and their trunks gave her a place to sit and think.

Maybe it was why she bonded with the Threstrals at Hogwarts; they often offered her the same, silent comfort of just _being_ there.

"Harrummm...little butterfly, you should not be sleeping on the ground. Not safe for such light ones."

"I'm not a butterfly, silly. If I had known you would have almost stepped on me, I wouldn't have been sleeping on the ground at all."

"I am...mmmmm...glad you are aware of the danger. I will take you to Edoras. There are...mmmmm...more of your kind."

She looked up into the kind eyes of the Ent whose shoulder she was sitting on as he lifted a gnarled hand to gently stroke her hair.

"Do you think they'll like me?"

"They would...harummm...have to be foolish not to."


	6. Susurrant

su·sur·rant  
adjective  
Softly murmuring; whispering.

He had to keep checking that she wasn't an elf.

He knew she wasn't after how many times they'd coupled, but sometimes he wondered. She didn't speak like a woman of Man or Dwarf. Half the time he even wondered if she really listened to him when she spoke to him. And she was always staring off into the distance, seeing something that he knew he wouldn't be able to comprehend; it really was enough to wound his pride as a male to be unable to hold her attention for long.

Luna.

That was the name she had given him when she appeared sitting on the edge of his bed. She said that she often visited his family, hinting that she was older than she seemed. She couldn't have been of Númenórean descent-her hair was far too similar of that of the shieldmaidens of Edoras.

But at least she was of age.

That was something he made sure to find out before the first tumble between the sheets. He didn't get the exact age-who really could after his eyes rolled into the back of his head and ended up seeing stars? Luna. An apt name for someone who could send a dwarf to the moon and back with pleasure alone.

She slept peacefully beside him and he wondered when she would disappear on him. If she was who he thought she was, he wouldn't have much time left to spend with her. But even he had to admit that spending nearly all day worshiping her body was a great way to make the most of the time given.

"Fíli," she sighed his name and he could already feel himself harden at the tone she used. It was the same way she breathed his name right before he thought he was going to die every time they went at it.

Her eyes were slow to open and a frown turned her lips downward.

"I think I'll be leaving soon."

Oh. Well. There went another chance for one last go.

Trying not to show his disappoint, he leaned over her to place a kiss on her temple.

"S'alright, lover. I can't really feel my legs anymore anyway."

Something fierce sparked in her eyes and her lips quirked up into a smirk.

"I didn't say I was leaving just yet," she rolled herself on top of him, "and don't worry about your legs, my dear dwarf. You won't be using them."

Fíli briefly thought to himself, as the goddess above him moved to ride him, if his family would mind if he died this night. He knew he wouldn't mind at all.

Saucy minx.


	7. Totem

to·tem  
noun  
1) a natural object or an animate being, as an animal or bird, assumed as the emblem of a clan, family, group  
2) a representation of such an object serving as the distinctive mark of the clan or group

Contrary to popular belief, King Thrór was not insane.

It was perfectly normal for a King to lock himself in his throne room for hours at a time and emerge looking exhausted. Although, it did spark some nasty rumors about what he was doing in there; rumors also said he liked that pretty rock too much for his own good. Ridiculous. Only Thrór knew what he was doing in there and it wasn't as awful as the kingdom thought it was. Actually, it was as far away from lewd as they could imagine.

He never should have told her how to remove the Arkenstone from its place above the throne.

But she was just so delightful and she helped distract him from the troubles of being King and dealing with Thranduil. And she always did come after Thranduil left; apparently she had some decent blackmail against the Elvenking-that automatically put her in Thrór's good graces.

However, today she was not as delightful as usual. And she came garbed in black instead of her usual bright and eccentric colors. He thought the color suited the current atmosphere; he was sitting on his throne, reminiscing about the courtship of his wife-Aulë rest her soul-when the girl appeared, running through the solid stone doors as if they were curtains.

He heard the soft pitter-patter of the soles of her little boots as she all but flew into his arms and burst into tears. She had grown since he'd last seen her; she looked older and there was a darkness in her eyes that he never thought he'd see.

"Luna," they were on a first-name basis now since she outright refused to call him by his title, "what distresses you today?"

She had buried her face in the collar of his fur coat and let out a low keening that made his heart pulse in pain and he pulled her away from his face to get a better look at her.

"You wear the colors of mourning, Luna. Who has passed that upsets you so?"

Her lip trembled and the tears fell from her eyes in a constant stream. It had to be someone close to her heart for her to be this way and she still refused to speak to him. He knew not to push; especially when she reached above him and released the Arkenstone from its resting place.

Now just to be clear, there was a select few that Thrór trusted to physically handle the Arkenstone and that list was smaller than the amount of living relatives he had. But he allowed Luna because when she had first appeared to him, she asked why it was so important to him and all the reasons he gave her impossible for her young mind to comprehend, so he left it at that and gave in for her requests to hold it.

She turned it over in her hands and kept her gaze locked on to the shifting colors of the stone.

"M'mama," she mumbled so quietly he almost didn't catch it. She had stopped crying but her sniffles echoed in the quiet of the sealed throne room. "She was...like this. She was the heart of _my_ mountain."

Thrór wisely kept his mouth shut and gathered her in his arms so they could both sit comfortably on this throne. He took the Arkenstone in his hands and held it closer to her face. He wasn't stupid like his foolish grandchildren; he knew Luna was magical and had her way of leaving a piece of herself behind-a trinket here, a random bauble there-so this time, he was asking her to leave something to remember her by. He had a terrible feeling she would outlive him despite their vast difference in species and aging.

Luna stared at the shifting lights in the pretty rock. At least Thrór had a way to see his heart in front of him-she had nothing. Leaning forward, she placed a kiss on the smooth cut stone and felt the magic that usually clung to her slip free just a little. She and Thrór watched as the Arkenstone glowed a soft pink before the colors pulled themselves into a single point within the stone and became another one of the shifting colors.

Thrór didn't want to admit the feeling that built up in his chest when he saw Luna's magic become a part of the stone he treasured. It was similar to the dread he felt when he knew it was his wife's time to pass. With Luna in his arms, he stood from his throne and placed her onto the floor before him. Kneeling, he gathered her in his arms once more and embraced her and fiercely as he would embrace his son or grandchildren.

The King Under the Mountain could feel it in his bones: this would be the last time he would see the human child who soothed him.

Many years later, King Thrór raged to the heavens the day he lost the Arkenstone to Smaug the Terrible. He no longer cared about the gold that flew through the air as the fire drake dove into the treasury and claimed his home. No, all he cared for was that glisten of pink that twinkled at him before it was lost and his cry of despair was muted by Smaug's roar of victory.

"LUNA!"


	8. Noetic

no·et·ic  
adjective  
1) of or pertaining to the mind  
2) originating in or apprehended by reason

"I do not want to learn embroidery!" Éowyn stomped her feet in protest when one of the many servants attempted to draw her away from the training grounds. "I want to learn to fight and become a Shieldmaiden of Rohan!"

Théoden was developing a nasty headache caused by his niece's caterwauling and the servants' incessant nagging. He was about to step forward and reassure his niece that she need not learn embroidering today when the smallest of the children stood between his niece and the servant. Whatever she said next had the servant raising a hand to strike her, but she stood her ground in defiance with an unflinching stare. He slowly made his way around them and noted that Luna had one hand behind her to keep Éowyn from charging forward and the other was relaxed at her side. His eyes narrowed at the contrast in the tenseness of her body versus the relaxed limb at her side; this child recognized a confrontation when she saw it-she was prepared to fight and not let her opponent notice it.

"Why, what a wild child you are! If I were your mother, I'd be having words with you!" The irate servant huffed while she lowered her hand. It wouldn't do to strike a child in front of royalty; she'd lose her position not only with the royal family, but with the rest of the village.

"If you were my mother," the small one said evenly, "you would be buried six feet in the ground with none but the worms to comfort you."

The servant flinched and took a step back. "Well, I never!" she balked and turned on her heel to step away.

Éowyn shook her head and wrapped her arms around her friend.

"Luna, you should not have done that. It is not proper!"

Luna scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Neither is yelling at the help, but you do it anyway."

"Why you-!"

He watched the child, Luna, evade his niece with a smile on her face.


	9. Guile

guile  
noun  
1) insidious cunning in attaining a goal; crafty or artful deception; duplicity.

Hogwarts was having a Reunion Ball.

That alone was a recipe for disaster when one considered who was going to be present. For just this one night, former students were unruly teens again-gossip ran rampant from table to table:

"...heard Potter is the new of the DMLE..."

"...Parkinson slept with who?! Oh the _scandal-"_

"-Not nearly as bad as Ginny Weasley! Have you heard if the divorce from Potter..."

"...Granger invented a possible cure for victims on the Cruciatus Curse."

As per the past, the Golden Trio and a select few were the highlight of most of the gossip. Last year, the juiciest of gossip was Lavender Brown's alleged ménage à trois with the Weasley twins.

But what really stole the spotlight this time around wasn't a what. It was a who-Luna Lovegood had all eyes on her the second she arrived. It probably didn't help stop any possible heart attacks since she arrived on the arm of one of the hardest to please of Slytherins:

Blaise Zabini.

They had to be the most unlikely pair to walk through those doors; Blaise, with his dark skin, finely tailored suit and hard eyes standing alongside a pale Luna, who was decked out in a sleek emerald dress with a near-scandalous slit that began mid-thigh and a pair of sensible black satin heels. Her hair was loose but tamed with what could have been a whole bottle of Sleekeasy's Hair Potion and she wore very little jewelry, save for an opal pendant and a ring with an unknown stone set within a silver-white band.

"Luna dear," Blaise murmured as they both surveyed the suddenly hushed Great Hall filled with former classmates, "it seems that Greengrass is having a conniption fit."

"Is she? How unfortunate. Ginny seems to be shocked into silence," Luna tittered from behind her hand.

Blaise's chuckled as he took her raised hand and brought it to his lips for an affectionate kiss, "Five Galleons says that Granger will run diagnostics the second she has you away from me."

Luna couldn't help but laugh, the sound similar to bells chiming as it carried throughout the Hall, "Ten Galleons says that Draco will confront you or someone will claim I'm aiming to be the next Black Widow."

Blaise pinched the bridge above his nose and scowled, "Don't even joke about such things. Mother still says you have such great potential."

They continued to walk towards a random table, chatting quietly while the everyone else began to talk again and the music started up once more.

"Luna! What in the name of Merlin are you thinking?" Ginny exclaimed before grabbing the blonde by the hand and pulling her closer to her family's table.

Blaise groaned when the amused Ravenclaw waved playfully at him while Granger pulled her wand out and the familiar swirl of color signaled a diagnostics check.

"...you didn't drink anything he gave you, did you?"

"But really, Blaise, Loony Lovegood?"

_He's not going to let this one go,_ Blaise thought to himself while he watched Luna turn away yet another offer to dance.

"Why not Lovegood?"

"Blaise, I think the real question here is _why_ Lovegood?"

"She's not a Gryffindor, for one."

He hid a smirk when he saw her evade Lee Jordan's wandering hands with practiced ease and a pointed stare.

"She might as well be! Circe knows she's spent enough time with them. She sympathizes with blood traitors and again, in case you've forgotten, she's bloody _Loony Lovegood!_"

Blaise drank the rest of his wine and patted his old friend on the shoulder.

"And here I thought the reformed Draco Malfoy had let go of his old school day beliefs."

"And you haven't? You were of the most difficult of all of us and you settled for Lovegood! Does your mother even know?"

"Mother knows," he waved a hand in dismissal of Malfoy's words, "she's invited Luna to visit any time."

"But-"

"Blaise, darling, is he not taking it well?" Luna had loosely wrapped her arms around him, her cheek pressed against his own whilst she stared at Draco with curiosity dancing in her eyes.

"Luna, it's Draco." Because Draco's name alone usually answered everything.

"You'll never be one of us, Lovegood," spat an irate Astoria Greengrass, "You can dress the part but everyone knows how worthless you are. Go find another Pureblood to leech from and scurry back to the Golden Trio; this act is already old."

In one smooth movement, Luna untangled herself from her companion and stood nearly nose-to-nose with the Slytherin.

"An act?" she asked loftily, noting how Blaise had shifted to stand beside her, his hand loosely wrapped around her wrist. Her eyebrow quirked in amusement; he recognized the signs of confrontation as easily as she could. Her cloudy gaze sharpened into a diamond-hard stare and barely took a step forward-she was pleased when the already startled Astoria took a quick step back.

"Has it ever occurred to you that the Lovegoods are neither poor nor have we ever needed charity? Or that a Raven could outwit the Sorting Hat into getting out of a nest of Snakes?" Her voice was pitched low and it rolled over the younger woman like waves crashing against the shore. "Tell me Astoria," she tilted her head to the side and noticed how Astoria unwittingly followed her movement, "have you ever known a Slytherin clever enough to be personally invited to the Common Room of every House?"

"Well..that is..." Astoria was floundering for words. This was not the Loony Lovegood she had gone to school with in the past! Try as she might, she could not break away from Luna's gaze. Heart beginning to pound, she reached behind her for Draco's sleeve and faintly tugged. He came forward to stand between her and Lovegood, but even with his added presence, Astoria still felt uneasy.

"Name a Snake who never broke before a Lestrange," the musical lilt to Luna's voice began to memorize the Slythrerin couple before her and when her gaze strayed for just a moment to Draco's, he was helplessly ensnared before he could even think to look away.

Draco couldn't understand why the air that was in his lungs was suddenly refusing to be released. Lovegood moved languidly closer and breathed against the shell of his ear, her sight focused wholly on the now hyperventilating Astoria behind him, "Only a Raven can silence a Slytherin Power couple as easily as I can."

"Luna, you're frightening the children." Blaise chided gently as he pulled her closer to him. He watched her eyes soften and as the clouds returned to them, he heard Draco and Astoria gasp for breath. "I do think that Cho Chang wishes to have a word with you," he gave her a gentle push when she rolled her eyes, but nonetheless drifted away to the gaggle of Ravenclaws a few tables down.

"What in the seven Hells was _that?!_" A visibly shaken Malfoy demanded. Astoria had collapsed into the chair beside him and sounded like she was trying to remember how to breathe normally.

Blaise grinned and took a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing server.

"That," he lifted his glass in a toast to Luna, who winked from a few tables down, "was a Snake Charmer."


	10. Boondoggle

boon·dog·gle  
noun  
1) a product of simple manual skill, as a plaited leather cord for the neck or a knife sheath.  
2) work of little or no value done merely to keep or look busy.

The Burrow was as lively as ever what with the whole family home for dinner. Ron and Harry were hip deep in an argument regarding some such Quidditch move or another while Charlie was rolling his eyes at his mother's suggestion that he "settle down with some nice girl. Preferably the petite brunette that he worked with." He could curse his coworkers for the day they owl'd his mother a fake date picture.

Neville and Hermione sat near the fireplace chatting quietly about the latest breakthrough in wizard medicine while Ginny sat in her father's chair, her fingers weaving a simple braid for the girl in front of her. Luna was always welcome to their home; especially since her father's passing a year ago. It only felt right to look out for her now that she had no family left to turn to. Molly and Arthur had pestered her about having her move in with them; they felt concerned with her only keeping to herself.

And seeing haughty Slytherins on the weekends.

Not that she couldn't take care of herself. No, Luna was fully functional on her own. She still ran the Quibbler with the help of some Hogwarts house elves she had grown attached to from her school days. And she still made charms for her friends even if they never really wore them. Like right now, she was winding a thin steel wire around an intricate braid of leather. It looped in and around some odd baubles that faintly looked like snail shells and it looked as if she had personally made two of them. When she reached the end of the wire, she gathered the magic that was the Weasley's own brand of home, and singed the edge of the wire hot enough to weld it into the design. Satisfied, she gathered the two necklaces, thank her friend for the braid, and approached the two most rowdy of the Weasley clan.

Fred and George were always kind to Luna. They appreciated her sense of humor and didn't treat her like she was dim-witted, so they always held a soft spot in her heart. Tapping Fred's shoulder-she was positive he was Fred since she had memorized his magical signature long ago-and gave him a mega watt smile.

"George," her lips twitched just a bit, "and Fred. I made these for you," she held out her gifts and was pleased to see that instead of staring at the odd necklaces in revulsion, they happily put them on. "I laced humdingers into them so the next time something goes wrong with any of your experiments, you'll have plenty of help."

"Why thank you-"

"-our lovely Luna."

And to show her their gratitude, they each kissed her on the cheek simultaneously. In the background, their mother was gesturing wildly to them and back to Charlie. She was saying quite passionately, "See? Your brothers settled for a nice girl! Why can't you do the same?"

Bill only chuckled and thumped his unfortunate younger brother on the back.


	11. Hokum

ho·kum  
noun  
1) out-and-out nonsense; bunkum.

True to her word, there was a time when Fred and George's many experiments did indeed get out of hand. It just happened at different times within the same week, and both were at a loss to explain to one another just what Luna meant by "all the help they'd need."

Fred sighed, patting his new companion affectionately on the head. It was time to face the music now that his brother was home from his trip abroad. George had a left a few days ago to look for new suppliers of a particular ingredient they were slowly running out of. Settling his nerves, Fred quietly closed the door to his room behind him just as his twin did the same. They sat down next to each other on their couch and were equally hesitant to proceed.

"Gred."

"Forge."

They both began at the same time, but stopped to let the other continue.

"Gred, I know we said we'd limit our partners to ourselves and Harry-"

"Forge, I understand. I've added someone to the company. She's a marvelous thing-"

"Oh Merlin, you too? I've done the same. He's been remarkably helpful with running the shop during my breaks-"

"We'll have to talk living situations, though. It shouldn't cost too much to alter the spare room-"

"I hope yours doesn't mind sharing-"

"But he can only live in an icebox for so long."

"I can't keep her in my custom luggage forever."

Both brothers shared a long, slow blink with one another before their expressions cracked into a grin.

"You too, eh Forge?"

"Nearly blasted my eyebrows off and when I came to, there he was. He had on an apron and had an ice pack ready. Bless that little bugger's heart."

"Brilliant! I ate some bad shellfish on a dare and the sweet thing cared for me even when I soiled myself."

"That's disgusting, Gred."

"You have no idea, Forge."

They shared a brief laugh before waving their wands at their bedroom doors to let their helpful friends waddle out into the sitting room. Fred's companion slid on his belly and popped up to sit on Fred's knee. He waved a fin in the manner of a salute and let out a cheerful squawk.

"I call him Captain Cook," Fred said proudly.

George's new friend timidly peeked from around George's side and, when seeing Captain Cook, let out a quiet "meep!" and flushed pink to her delicate beak. George laughed and lifted her onto his lap.

"I named mine Greta."


	12. Ambulant

am·bu·lant  
adjective  
1) moving from place to place; itinerant; shifting.

"Uncle misses you."

Luna let out an exasperated sigh and tilted her head to give a sidelong glance at the Dwarf prince beside her. She had come to initially visit Thorin, but Fíli had told her that the King Under the Mountain was in a diplomatic meeting with Thranduil. She gave an unladylike snort at that. In all her years of growing up, Thranduil had changed the least out of the many peoples of Middle Earth she had become acquainted with.

"You know why I can't," she mumbled as she drew her knees closer to her chest. The two of them sat on Kíli's bed-they were waiting for his return from the kitchens.

"Does it really bother you so? He's not the man he was when you were here last. Back then...he was distracted, not himself. We had only just reclaimed Erebor a few months prior to your return and he was not completely over the gold-sickness."

"You don't have to explain. I've already forgiven him for his words."

"But not his actions."

Fíli rested his head between her shoulder blades as his arms came around to embrace her. No, he would not be forgiving his Uncle any time soon for what had been done.

_Flashback~_

_"Thorin, please! You must take back your words against Bilbo!"_

_"I cannot. While I now understand why he went behind my back to save us all, the hurt is still too near."_

_"And what of his hurts, Thorin?! While he lays near death and you still refuse to see him! Will his last memory be of you abandoning him?!"_

_Their shouts at each other could be heard throughout the cavern leading to the Royal Suites. A tired, bloodied, but alive King wearily climbed the steps with an angry, vibrant human woman hurled words at his back that were as painful as each step he took. But those words..._

_"And what would you know of abandonment? Where were you when King Thrór was buried with no head and his people grieving his loss?! Where were you to stop him from the foolish notion that he could possible reclaim the halls of Khazad-dûm!"_

_"Don't you lay your faults on me, O' King Under the Bloody Mountain!" It was one of the few times Luna had ever raised her voice into a piercing shriek for she had her own reasons. She had felt the rip in her heart when her dear friend lost his life and she would have crossed time and space in an instant to be there with him in his last moments. _

_"You were his confidant!" Thorin turned on his heel to face her, his voice a thunderous roar that shook the stalactites above._

_"You were his family!" Luna hurled back, tears brimming in her eyes. _

_This was an old hurt for the both of them and it was something both adamantly refused to discuss with anyone. Let alone with their own counsel._

_The deep breath that Thorin took felt as long as long as the endless halls of his mountain. His Grandfather's mountain. Suddenly weary, he raised a hand to the ageless woman before him._

_"I will go see Bilbo Baggins after I have settled some affairs. But for now, I banish you Luna from entering these halls and influencing what's left of my kin."_

_The hurt that flashed in her crystal blue eyes stung him for a moment, before those very same eyes hardened into diamonds and those lips of hers twisted into a snarl._

_"You could not stop me from seeing those dear to me." She took a step forward and the magic of Erebor itself embraced her as if to contradict its King's words._

_"Begone," the word was more of a croak than a command. By Aulë, he could see why his Grandfather favored her company. She only appeared as frail as her body, but the pure strength in her was admirable._

_"No."_

_"Please," he grit his teeth as the air around her began to crackle and pop. She was willing to fight him to stay near and as much as he respected her for it, he couldn't have her here now. Not when so much had gone so wrong._

_"I will not let you deny me from seeing those I have loved and cared for-"_

_CRACK!_

_Thorin regretted it the moment his hand connected with her delicate skin. He closed his eyes as the guilt rolled into him and deep in his mind, he saw his grandfather. And Thrór was not pleased._

_Luna's head was still turned from when he struck her and the magic around her that was so thick with her rage was as silent as she was with shock. She felt the lightest drip of blood fall from the cut given to her by one of his many rings. She did not cry nor whimper from the sting on her cheek and the hurt in her heart. No, Luna would not show weakness before the one she used to hold in the highest regard._

_Instead, she turned her head ever so slowly so she could stare into the eyes of the shaken King before her. Idly, she wondered just who was surprised the most at what just occurred, but the thought flitted through her mind for only a brief second before she uttered the words that shook the foundations of the Lonely Mountain itself._

_"Thrór would be ashamed of you."_

_~End Flashback~_

"Is he...is he still angry with me?" Luna spoke in the smallest of voices as she turned and buried her face in the crook of Fíli's neck and shoulder.

"I think...I think Uncle is mostly angry at himself."

"Because of what I said?"

"Because you were right."

The deep baritone of the King's voice echoed within the chamber and had the occupants of the room scrambling off the bed. Fíli stood just behind Luna, his fingers clasped around her wrist and his thumb gently brushing the skin there.

Luna slowly blinked her big blue eyes and nodded.

"I wish I wasn't."

Thorin accepted her words for what they were; he knew this was as close to an apology as the two of them would ever get.

**A/N: This turned out way more dramatic than I originally thought it would be. **


	13. Transfigure

trans·fig·ure  
verb  
1) to change in outward form or appearance; transform.  
2) to change so as to glorify or exalt.

"I can't keep you, can I?"

Blaise couldn't take his eyes off the captivating woman before him. She was dancing with Antonio, her head tipped back in laughter. Antonio was his mother's newest "catch" and was a dance instructor. Luna had come to visit his mother's Manor in Tuscany to brush up on some lessons.

He honestly had to admit he never wanted to know what kind of lessons Luna Lovegood was taking from the Black Widow of Britain.

They had gotten close after the war and he only met her because she had personally come to visit his home in Britain, babbling about forbidden magics and demanding to see Serena Zabini. The two got on like ducks to water and he never really paid attention to just what it was they discussed. All he knew was that his mother was an old friend of Luna's mother and that she knew how to help the troubled girl.

But the things she taught Luna…

It's why Blaise knew he could never leave her alone amidst his old Slytherin dorm mates. After seeing what she did to Draco and Astoria, he almost wondered how she would affect Millicent or Theo. It would be like watching the cat that ate the canary gear up for round two. Exciting as it was, he didn't want her true talents to be exposed to his 'friends'.

She was indeed quite the Snake Charmer. And her prey sometimes extended to the biggest snake of them all. Just before they had left Hogwarts, they had bumped into his old Head of House and it took all he had not to chuckle at what transpired. He knew that Snape could sense the pure magic rolling off of his companion, and before he could even speak, Luna had danced around him, her feet a flurry of movement that gave the illusion she had merely floated right past the Potions Master.

"_Farewell, Professor." _

Blaise blinked and the memory was pushed back to the corner of his mind. Luna had just kissed Antonio on the cheek to say good bye, but even his trained eyes saw the lingering tendrils of magic sink into the man's skin.

"What did you give him?" he questioned after they used a Portkey to transport them to the manor.

"Hope." She replied simply as she spun in lazy circles with her arms wide open. "It's going to rain soon," she said offhandedly.

"Looks that way," he snagged her wrist and pulled her close as the two of them began to waltz around the courtyard. "Hope that he will escape Mother?"

"Of course not, darling." The clouds in her eyes were missing as she stared deep into his own, "Just hope that he will at least die peacefully. The last one was just so messy," her nose wrinkled in disgust and Blaise nodded in agreement.

"Indeed. Armando put up quite the struggle in the end."


	14. Arsy-varsy

ar·sy-var·sy  
adjective  
1) wrong end foremost; completely backward.  
2) in a backward or thoroughly mixed-up fashion.

Luna felt her body hit the ground in a heap and her breath stuttered out of her lips. From what she could sense around her, she was in Rivendell and right beside the great fountain that kept her linked to this location. Groaning, she rolled onto her back and flung her arm over her face.

Circe, what she had just done was so foolish she could already feel Elrond glaring holes into her head. It was a little known fact that Luna was an Animagus and even fewer knew she had two forms. From what she figured, her form fit her soul depending on which world she was in.

In her home world, she was as clever as her House mascot, a sleek raven with piercing blue eyes. However, in Middle Earth, she was no small bird with a puny wingspan. Here, she was one of Gwaihir's fledglings. At least, that's what she understood from her time within his nests. One of the first times she had quite literally fallen into Middle Earth, she was escaping Death Eaters in her raven form when the magic snapped around her and in her panic she arrived still in bird form.

Just not the form she was expecting.

She awkwardly broke her fall by expanding her wings like a parachute and was immensely surprised by how small everything looked. And it was then she realized that it wasn't everything that was small; it was _her_ that was _big._

Fortunately for her, Landroval was on patrol and found her. He immediately recognized her for what she was—he still refused to tell her what exactly to this day—and guided her to his home to recover.

But back to the present…

"Elrohir, either you help me up or I will dunk you in this fountain." She knew whose eyes were on her the minute she recognized his magical signature. "And please get your father. I think I might have fractured something."

He gave a delicate sniff as he bent down to lift her up into his arms. "You smell like fire and battle."

"You smell like you've been rolling in the dirt with your brother."

"Close. Elladan and I might have teamed up on Lord Glorfindel. And we might have tripped him into a rather nasty patch of dirt."

"You're both hopeless," she shifted in his arms and she winced at the sharp pain in her own. Those darn trees…

"So what do I tell father of your injuries? You know how he gets when you don't tell him how you got them."

Her head lolled on her neck and stared up at the afternoon sky. If she didn't hurt so much, she would have flown to the Shire to rest up in Brandybuck Hall. But she was just so tired lately; she guessed it probably had to do with how much time she spent crossing between worlds. It was starting to take its toll on her.

"The truth I suppose. You know those crazy Dwarrows that were here not too long ago? They're close to Mirkwood now. Thranduil is going to have a cow."

Elrohir threw his head back and laughed. There wasn't an elf alive who didn't know about the feud between the Dwarrows and the King of the Woodland Realm. He was still chuckling when he knocked on the door of his father's study.

"_Ada,_ we have a guest in need of healing."

The sigh from the other side of the door was deep and long-suffering.

"Bring her in, Elrohir."


	15. Sparge

sparge  
verb  
1) To scatter or sprinkle.

"Do you ever miss the sun?"

Thranduil was startled out of his musings by a melodious voice that drifted towards him. He made no movement to show that she had surprised him; instead, he had tilted his head in her direction.

"Not really. I go out to see it when I feel the need to."

She had taken to visiting him lately; usually to harass his son into exploring the halls with her or scaring the wits out of his royal guard.

"And do you ever need to?"

She seated herself in front of his throne, her skirts settled beneath her and her hands folded primly upon her lap.

"On occasion," he wondered what she was implying. He often wondered what in the world she talked about during her visits for he could never decipher the hidden meanings behind her words.

"Does it ever snow here?"

Her hair was styled similarly to those in Lothlórien; she must have come from a visit with Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn.

"Very rarely."

He honestly didn't know how to speak to someone as curious and muddled in the mind as her.

"But it does get frighteningly cold, doesn't it? Fíli says the mountain gets bitterly cold in the winter and Bard says the same."

He didn't like how she was focused so intently on his facial expression while she spoke. He tried not to react to hearing about the heir of Erebor, but her lips twitched ever so slightly and he couldn't resist the small sound that escaped from him. It sounded very similar to a sigh. He must have reacted in some small way to amuse her so much.

But to speak of the cold…

Now that he thought about it, there was a coldness to her that he had never noticed before. He had originally thought her a child of man, but over the long years he had begun to wonder if she truly was one of their kind. Some days she could pass as an elf with how elegantly she moved when she walked through his halls. Other days she could be as rowdy as his wretched Dwarven neighbors, yet be as humble and compassionate as a Hobbit. But these days, she seemed more distant, less childlike in her current behavior. He found himself disturbed to see her grow so old while she still appeared to be so young.

Yes, there was never a time when King Thranduil of Mirkwood didn't wonder about Luna Lovegood.

**A/N: For alexma, who wanted to see Luna visit Thranduil.**


	16. Wildling

wild·ling  
noun  
a wild plant, flower, or animal

"_Lumos,"_ Luna whispered and a delicate ball of light hovered above her palm. She was tracking thirteen Dwarrows and a hobbit into the dark of Mirkwood. She had very little to fear here; it was hard to be scared of giant spiders after vacationing in Fangorn where the trees could literally eat people. And once anyone held a tea party with Aragog's great grandchildren, their perspective of spiders would alter greatly.

Who knew Acromantulas had a penchant for treacle tarts?

She had learned how to track when she was in her tweens. Weeks of running on patrol with the Rangers who protected the Shire taught her how to be observant and what to be wary of. Further study under the teachings of Haldir's patrol cemented her knowledge and certainly helped during her explorations in her own world. Although when it came to explaining to her friends how she knew the things she did, she typically fell back on her default answer:

"_The Nargles told me."_

Everyone tended to take her word on faith alone and very few questioned her anymore; Hermione only protested out of habit these days.

However, her tracking skills were relatively useless even with the spell she casted. Mirkwood had grown much darker over the years from the taint of evil that now blocked out the sun. Her lips turned downward in a frown as she vaguely remembered a time when sunlight filtered through the canopy of the treetops and more than squirrels scurried along the forest floor.

No magic of her own would help her in this situation and it would only draw evil closer to her than it already was. Lady Galadriel had warned her against using her own magic while she existed in this world; it would draw unwanted attention towards her.

Wither mind set on her next course of action, Luna extinguished the light within her hand and turned to embrace the tree nearest her. While Mirkwood itself was poisoned, the forest still had a magic of its own older than even that of its current ruler. And magic never really died or faded away, it simply went to sleep and remained dormant until it was needed again.

Closing her eyes, Luna breathed deep and even and let her consciousness flow from herself into the tree before her. She slipped through its bark, past the threads of rot that tainted its inner rings, and down into its very core where a vibrant green still pulsed with life. When their consciousness's met it felt like coming home and that vague memory of a forest filled with life only became more vivid. Outwardly, Luna smile and if there were any around to see her, they wouldn't know what to make of a human girl stepping into the massive tree as if its bark was liquid and the ripples of is movement closed around her.

Luna saw flashes of memories: seeds sprouting into saplings, trees growing tall and extending warm greetings to one another and even Elven children frolicking around the roots with children of other races. Rather than be overwhelmed by the onslaught of rushing thoughts and whispers, she embraced them and reached for the most recent memories through the roots of the interconnecting trees nearby. She heard the groan of boughs creaking under their own might and caught glimpses of blonde and red hair. _Legolas and Tauriel,_ her mind whispered and she searched deeper for what was going on in that location. She saw the Dwarrows surrounded by elves she personally knew and nodded in satisfaction.

They would be safe for the time being as long as Thorin didn't say something too insulting to Thranduil's face.


	17. Vernacularize

ver·nac·u·lar·ize

To translate into the natural speech peculiar to a people

_Things had gone all kinds of wrong tonight,_ thought a miserable Bilbo as he blew a wayward curl away from his eyes. He was standing on the balcony, elbows resting on the railing with his eyes following the Sun as it began to set. He could still hear them arguing.

It all began with an innocent enough question asked by Ori. He, Balin, and Thorin were attempting to sort out the marriage details between Bilbo and Thorin; they wanted to have both of their cultures represented in the ceremony when Ori had wondered aloud:

"Who will be there to represent Mister Bilbo's family?"

As they all knew, Bilbo's parents were deceased and his remaining relatives had no intention of leaving the Shire for the treacherous road to Erebor. Bilbo had insisted that any member of the company would suffice, which is what brought the presence of the others in the company to present their rights to be claimed as a member of his family. It nearly became a brawl when Thorin insisted that it was his family who would be more suitable since Bilbo was to become a member of the royal family anyway. Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and the Brothers Ri did not take it very well and argued back that any of them would be much more relatable to Bilbo seeing as how they came from more _humble_ origins.

The word "peasant" might have been muttered under the breath of Dwalin.

And there may have been some overly inappropriate gestures courtesy of Bifur.

It wasn't clear who threw the first punch, but the conversation strayed out of the common tongue and lapsed into snarled khuzdul. Bilbo was by no means a linguist, but he had spent enough time around the dwarves that he could at least understand the gist of most conversations. And it was not going well at all. From what he could still make out, Nori had a very convincing—if not slightly dark—argument that because both his siblings and Bilbo were orphans, they should stand together. Bilbo snorted in disdain and dropped his head onto the cool, stone railing.

"These dwarves will be the death of me," he grumbled to himself before sucking in a sharp breath. An odd tingle crawled up his spine and it was one he knew very well. It was different from the magic of Gandalf and that of the Elves. This was a brand of magic that warmed him from the tips of ears down to his toes. He barely acknowledged the hand that tousled his curls and opted for turning and burying his face into the abdomen of the woman he knew stood behind him.

"Luna!"

His voice trembled with the torrent of emotion flowing through him. Ever since his mother's death, she had been there for him. Sometimes she would be there in person, or she would leave gifts behind to let him know she was always watching out for him.

"Bilbo, Sweetling, what is it that ails you? I could feel your distress on the wind."

His lip began to shake and tears sprang into his eyes before he could blink them back. For the first time since the death of his parents, Bilbo cried in earnest. The stress of recovering from a massive battle, Thorin's awkwardly painful proposal, and now the arguments between his companions had finally overwhelmed the hobbit. He vented his stress to her in words that wore more like garbled slurs between broken sobs that only grew with every breath.

Fortunately, Luna was quite proficient in the language known as "hysterical hobbit" after many of Bungo's conniption fits over Belladonna's adventure-related injuries. So she did what any hobbit wrangler would do.

She led him inside to his room and sat him down in his chair by the fireplace. She removed her cloak and wrapped him up in it, then kissed his brow until his breathing evened out and he started to snore. Smiling gently, she sent the embers smoldering in the fireplace and playful wink and the fire roared to life, bringing the chamber to a more comfortable temperature. Satisfied with her work, she spun on her heel and walked out of the room, the heavy doors gliding to a close behind her.


	18. Chutzpa

chutz·pa  
_noun  
_unmitigated effrontery or impudence; gall.

Ori was starting to feel very uncomfortable with how the situation had escalated. Whatever work he had hoped to accomplish had literally been thrown out the window—the King Under the Mountain owed him a new roll of parchment—and Master Balin was already staring off into the distance; it was always a bad sign when Balin was checked out of the conversation. Mister Bilbo had already left looking quite aggravated not too long ago. Oh, how we wished he had kept his mouth shut!

Bifur and Mister Dwalin were engaged in a glaring contest while the Royal Heirs were trying—and failing—to calm their irate uncle, who looked ready to knock Bofur's teeth out.

A sudden insistent knock at the Meeting Room's doors drew their attention and Thorin barked out a harsh "What!" at the intrusion.

One of the guardsmen quickly stepped into the room, but was only half visible as if he didn't quite want to enter the room.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Milords, but ah…just a quick question that needs answering."

Glad to have some kind of distraction, Balin was out of his seat and ready to address the issue at hand.

"What's the question, laddie?"

"Well, um…" the guard glanced behind him, then back at the company, "She claims to be a relative—Ow! My apologies, milady! I meant no offense! Beg your pardon again," his eyes were wide with that looked like fear and a touch of anxiety. "She says she is a relative of the Halfling and—No wait! Please!"

Thorin and Company were quickly becoming alarmed at every word. Nori and Dwalin were already unsheathing daggers and kept looking at Thorin for any kind of signal to attack.

"My Bilbo," Came a growl that reverberated against the doors and made the walls tremble, "is not _half of anything!_" The words ended in a roar that had the doors—and the guard—flying open with such force that they rocked back on their hinges.

Not knowing what could possibly be coming through the doors, Dwalin and Nori let their daggers fly and were stunned at how easily both were caught.

"Oh, this is much better than Gandalf coming," sniggered a gleeful Kíli to Bombur. They had just been discussing the merits of sending a message to the Wizard to ask for his guidance.

Luna stepped into the firelight like a warrior of old. Her long, blonde hair was loosely plaited to one side. She wore a dark blue, long sleeved dress under a thick fur coat. There was a short sword strapped to a belt around her waist as well as two knives in her hands. Her fair skin was flushed in what looked like either fever or anger; it could have been both since she looked plenty mad enough.

"You two," she pointed at Nori and Dwalin, "nice throw. Mind if I keep these?" They were still in a bit of a shock and didn't respond right away so she moved on. "_You_," she glared in the general direction of the other members of the company. "Sit."

They sat.

"Kíli, be a dear and fetch some parchment for Ori to write on," her smile was kind but there was a gleam of violence in her eyes.

"Yes, Milady," Kíli never ran so quickly out of a room before. He was eager to return and see the results of her intervention.

"Bombur? Could you please go to the medical wing and bring Óin's field kit? Thank you."

That's when Thorin took notice of how she was favoring her left side while she stood.

"Luna, if you are injured, we can discuss this another time—" her stare damn near froze the air in his lungs, so he wisely chose an alternative course of action. "Fíli, escort our guest to a seat. We will discuss this now."

"Yes, Uncle." Fíli bit the inside of his cheek in barely contained amusement. Taking his sometimes lover by the hand, he let her lean on him as he led her to a chair. She gestured for an additional chair and he quickly complied for she wasted no time in propping up her right leg onto it. Before he could ask what manner of injury she had obtained, Óin was already shoving him out of the way and digging into his pockets for some herbs he always carried.

"Alright lassie, be honest with me. What injured you?"

"Warg."

"And where were you when this warg bit you?"

"Rohan."

The old healer erupted in a fit of Khuzdul that had more than a few eyebrows raised at his selection of words to describe his opinion of the woman before them.

"I don't even want to know how long that's been festering," he sighed in exasperation and peeled back the hem of her dress to stare at the makeshift bandages wrapped around her shin. Muttering darkly, he started to remove the bandages just as Bombur returned with the field kit. Oin wasted no time to grab an herb and, with quite a bit of menace, plunged it into one of the puncture wounds in his patient's leg.

What came out of the petite woman's mouth was a Khuzdul curse so foul that had Dori covering Ori's ears and Kili blinking in awe. Or, in the common tongue, was something along the lines of "son of a cock-sucking hag."

Her outburst seemed to break the tense atmosphere since Balin started to laugh so hard he was experiencing a coughing fit. Thorin ran a tired hand through his hair and groaned. Was the language of his people no longer sacred? He glanced at his nephews, and both of them were in stitches laughing alongside his advisor. Little traitors were probably teaching her on the sly.

But at least they were no longer fighting with one another. Glóin had taken it upon himself to pull up a seat beside their guest and talk to her in an effort to keep her attention from his sadistic medic of a brother's ministrations to her wound.

"Now where did such a little lass like yourself learn such crass language, eh? Was it one of the princes?" He inquired while giving said princes a stern look.

"Oh, it wasn't from us," Kili was quick to reply and winced when Luna barked out another harsh curse that had his ears ringing.

"Definitely not from us," agreed Fili. "At least we would never talk like that in front of her."

The three of them turned to look at a suddenly haggard Thorin and the remaining pairs of eyes in the room followed their gaze. Thorin snorted and rolled his eyes.

"I would not teach her such a thing either. I'm not as bad as _some_ people in this room. Nori. Bofur."

"Oi!" shouted an indignant Bofur. "I'll have you know I don' go makin' it my business to teach such a beautiful woman the worst of the worst curses." He played with his hat nervously and switched languages. **"And it's not like she can fully understand Khuzdul. Thank the maker for that otherwise we can never let her roam the mountain alone."**

"**Aye, that's true. She'd have the ladies of the court in an uproar,"** Dwalin chucked at the thought of the sheer amount of chaos Luna could cause. She already wasn't well-liked since it was common knowledge that she had Fíli wrapped around her finger; something their kind took great offense to.

"Now, now,"coughed a slightly flustered Dori. "It isn't polite to speak of another person in a language they can't understand. It's quite rude." He approached the injured woman and sat at her side. "Luna, my dear, could you tone down the language just a bit? There are young ears here after all."

"Of course, Mister Dori. I'm very sorry since I didn't know it was that bad." She looked genuinely apologetic about it.

"**How could she not?"** a doubtful Nori inquired of no one in particular. **"The mouth on that girl is something you'd hear out of a brothel—"**

"Nori!" The other members of the company shouted as one at his vulgarity.

"**What? It's true! I could call her all sorts of things right now and she would think it would all be the sweetest of endearments."** He winked at an amused Luna and purred out, **"Isn't that right, my saucy, elf-skinned canker-blossom?"**

Luna's sweet demeanor melted away into something decidedly feral. She took his words politely enough with a delicate lifting of an eyebrow. "Khuzdul really is such a beautiful language since it sounds so different compared to the other languages of Middle Earth."

"A-Aye. That it is, Miss Luna." Ori kept flicking his gaze between his brother and the woman. He could feel something terrible about to happen and didn't want anything _unnatural_ to happen to his brother.

"After all, I did enjoy learning it at King Thrór's knee."

_WHAT?!_

Was the collective thought of the company and Ori felt his stomach drop when Luna's voice lost its breathiness and took on a much more saccharine sound as she addressed his older brother once more.

"**I think I shall take the Elf-skinned as a compliment. However, I do believe it is you who deserves such cruel words you **_**artless, plume-plucked, tickle-brained puttock!"**_

Luna blinked and came back to herself. The others were staring at her as if she had grown another arm and was slapping Nori with it.

"Was it something I said?"


	19. Beforetime

be·fore·time  
_adverb. Archaic  
_formerly.

"How did I know it was you?"

Legolas had followed the echoes of an odd tune through the vast halls of his father's kingdom. The tune was being whistled by a wayward teen who was lounging about on his father's throne. Her back was on resting on the seat while her head rested on the arm rest, her legs dangling across the way on the other. Her head slowly turned and her cloudy blue eyes met his.

"Because it's always me?"

Normally, his father would have been present, but a peculiar incident had the Lord of Lasgalen out and about for once. One of his prized circlets had been _misplaced_ and the proud king was in search of it.

Luna sat up from her position on the throne, a familiar _mythril_ circlet twirling around her finger. Legolas rolled his eyes at her antics.

"Why must you tease my father so? He is under enough stress as it is what with the dwarves inspecting the state of the dungeons."

"That," she spun the circlet so it flew upwards to land upon the crown of her head, "is exactly why I must tease him." She winked from her seat, but soon frowned at the Elvish Princeling. "Your father doesn't smile anymore, Legolas."

With a grace only Luna could pull off, she leapt from the throne and landed softly in front of him.

"No, Little Sister, he certainly does not." Sighing, his turned his back and knelt. He felt the familiar sensation of her arms loosely wrapping themselves around his neck and her legs lightly gripping his sides. It was their tradition of sorts whenever she came by to visit.

Standing, he settled his hands beneath her thighs and winced a bit when the circlet on her head snagged on his hair.

"Let's go find my father. Maybe one of your stories will make him smile once more." Her presence had always been soothing for him and his family, so maybe her visit was more than coincidence. He had just been thinking of ways to lighten up his father's sour mood during breakfast.

"…do I have to give it back?"

"Yes."

._._._._._._._._._._._.

**A/N: For chacra and those who have stuck it out waiting for me to update. Thank you for the wonderful ideas and amazing feedback!**


	20. Clairaudience

clair·au·di·ence  
_noun_  
The power to hear sounds said to exist beyond the reach of ordinary experience or capacity, as the voices of the dead.

It seemed a poor sense of direction was genetic within the Durin line. Even after death, sons of the Durin line were hopeless in locating the way to the Halls of Waiting.

Thrór stood on what remained of the pyres that once held their dead from after the battle. He was gesturing wildly to his cousin, Fundin, and exclaiming quite loudly that they were to go North. Fundin kept insisting that they would be shown the way by their maker.

Frerin—who knew quite well that he also shared a poor sense of direction—wisely kept his mouth shut and took to searching the skies for a sign of reprieve. Perhaps Fundin was correct and that a sign would appear. And hopefully one would appear soon as more of his kin were becoming aware that they were in fact, dead.

"…does the King realize he's…ah…well, a tad bit _dead?_"

"How can he not realize he's practically dead? You are too!"

"Beg pardon, my boy, but you're missing a leg."

"Really now? Have you noticed most of us are missing something called…oh, I don't know….life?!"

A melodious trill echoed above them and a gust of wind would have knocked them on their rears if they weren't already dead. One of the great Eagles was descending from the sky to land before them, its massive wings brushing the tips of the trees.

"Fundin, look! A sign! I knew there would be one!"

Fundin gave Thrór a look of utter loathing before rolling his eyes and getting to his feet. Perhaps there would be a chance to knock his head off during the journey to the Halls.

The Eagle tilted its head in curiosity at them before its form shrunk into that of a woman dressed in the deep blues of the Durin line.

"**You dwarves...comedians the lot of you."**

All of them were stunned into silence; all but one. King Thrór's face brightened into a gentle smile and the madness that once lingered in his eyes vanished.

The woman approached them and knelt before their King, her head tilted toward the ground.

"**My King, I am so deeply sorry for not arriving sooner. I could have prevented your death—"**

Their king took the woman's face in his hands and pressed his temple to hers.

"**Never. I would never have you endanger your life for mine. Little Heart, you did manage to outlive me in the end."**

Uncaring of who was watching, Luna threw her arms around Thrór's shoulders and cried for all she was worth. When she had felt her ties to Thrór sever, it had caused her to collapse and the magical backlash all but destroyed her potions lab. Despite being extremely weakened upon awakening, Luna latched onto the remaining tethers of her connection to the late King and forced her existence into Middle Earth. She would not miss her final chance to say farewell to one of the many rulers of Middle Earth who had been present in her life.


	21. Vinous

vi·nous  
_adjective_  
1\. Of, resembling, or containing wine.  
2\. Of, relating to, or a characteristic of wine.  
3\. Produced by, indicative of, or given to indulgence in wine

One of her classmates was getting married.

It wasn't often that Luna Lovegood was invited to any kind of social function outside of a social homicide that the Slytherins occasionally tried to go through with. They thought they got close last time; she nearly admitted to being trained by the Black Widow of Britain, but not in the way they assumed.

Where Luna had ties to magic itself, Serena Zabini tied herself to magic via the deaths of others. To each its own on that one. Magic never held any rules over the Lovegood's or Zabini's. Their families were tied together through more than just words; blood and sacrifice were a requirement to access magic at its most potent. Magic was neither good nor evil.

It just _was._

And shortly after her mother's death, Luna simply_ was_ magic. Her mother had paid the price in order for Luna to live the extraordinary life she had been granted. And in return, Luna went where magic needed her. However, there were times when she went against magic's call and little by little, she began to pay her own price. The actual cost though…that would remain unknown to her for a time.

But what she did know was that she was certainly beginning to change. The thoughts that used to float within her mind were now wicked sharp like the edge of blade. Lately, she had been able to see through the eyes of those she loved most in Middle Earth. She started to see them as waking dreams when she was a child; it was why she was mistaken for an air-headed imbecile. In reality, she was watching friends grow from young to old. She saw many of their first battles and their final ones.

Luna felt as if she aged for every person she would see. Their life experiences were slowly becoming her own and it explained why she picked up the tracking lessons from the Rangers so easily as well as the endless amount of patience from the Elves. It was why she felt that she was starting to find her time in her own world so boring.

Blaise and his mother understood why she was constantly wandering in and out of their home. The magic cast by Serena Zabini had saturated their manor's grounds and it made travelling between worlds incredibly easy for Luna when she would come by to renew her ties with the land.

Who knew sex and magic had so much in common?

"Luna, really! _Half the cellar?"_

Blaise's indignant shout came from the staircase and startled her out of her thoughts.

"Where in the bloody hell did you learn to drink so much?"

A giggle slipped from her lips and she rolled over from her spot under the table. Her head bounced against the barrel she was using as a pillow and her vision began to swim. The stuff from home had _nothing_ on the wine that came from Lasgalen.


	22. Cogitation

cog·i·ta·tion  
_noun  
_concerted thought or reflection; mediation; contemplation

By the Maker, hobbits really could party!

And their Burglar certainly could drink since, by the looks of it, the King Under the Mountain was struggling to remain conscious. They—the Company—had escorted Bilbo back to his home in the Shire since he insisted his distant relatives couldn't be trusted to pack his things for him, which was fine since Thorin said he needed to pick up some more miners from Ered Luin anyway.

A likely excuse to spend more time with the hobbit.

Erebor, for the time being, was being taken care of by Princess Dís and King Dáin. Both had promised to look after Erebor and manage the oncoming projects of getting things back into working order before the Company's return.

And it appeared that there would be some measure of delay what with the booting the Sackville-Baggins out of Bag End, followed by reclaiming what it was Lobelia had taken, and then a meeting with the Thain of the Shire where they had discussed the reason behind their visit. That meeting had gone swimmingly well up until the point the Old Took mentioned that out of all his grandchildren, he never though that it would be Bilbo who would outshine his favorite daughter.

Bilbo had flushed a bright red in embarrassment and insisted it hadn't been completely intentional! But while he fussed, Balin turned a nearly murderous glare on a stunned Thorin. They had quickly excused themselves so they could discuss their recent discovery outside. They could all hear the outraged discussion from the other side of the door, and it was Dwalin who was kind enough to translate for the confused hobbits.

"Och, a right mess this. Ye have our deepest apologies Master Took and Master Baggins. Had we known that ye were royalty, we might 'ave treated ya better." The stern dwarf actually looked sheepish and his kin were shuffling their feet nervously.

"What? But we don't...I'm not really royalty! We don't have that kind of thing here in the Shire."

The Old Took clapped a hand on his grandson's shoulder. "Let it go, Bilbo. Dwarves are a stubborn bunch and perhaps it's best this way." This was the best entertainment that he'd seen in years since Bilbo's father's bumbling attempts at courting his Belladonna.

"Come, friends. We shall have a celebration in honor of my grandson's safe return and you're all invited."

And that's how they ended up partying with the hobbits. It wasn't even dark yet and most of the Dwarves were completely smashed. _'Twas a shameful sight to behold,_ thought Fíli. He had his eyes on the drinking contest between Bilbo's grandfather and Mister Dwalin. The Old Took gulped down mug after mug and showed no signs of slowing down, but Mister Dwalin looked as if he were one more sip away from a drunken oblivion.

Fíli had lost track of the other members of the company shortly after the dancing began, but he felt he had little to worry about. Not twenty minutes past, he overheard a passing hobbit couple say how endearing 'Mister Bilbo's friends were'. He had to admit it was loads better than the Shire's first impressions of them when they had first arrived to collect a Burglar. Back then, the residents cowered behind the curtains of their windows and were reluctant to offer any kind of directions to Mister Bilbo's smial.

A gaggle of hobbit children suddenly rushed past, startling him out of his thoughts. One of them stopped to take his hand and insistently urged him to follow. _Was this another one of the Shire's peculiar traditions?_

"C'mon Mister Fíli! It's about to start," the little one was so excited that it piqued Fíli's interest.

"What's about to start?"

"You'll see! Mister Gandalf already started the call!" The gap-toothed grinning child explained and led him towards the Party Tree.

Many were gathered nearby and Gandalf stood before the great tree, his staff knocking against the trunk. Each knock emitted a spark of light from the tree, and the light formed into whiz-poppers the shape of bees that buzzed excitedly around the amused onlookers.

A soft whistle on a gentle breeze flowed from the tops of the Party Tree's branches and drifted downwards in a fall of silk scarves. Blossoms began to bloom on the boughs and tendrils of vines crept down to tickle the cheeks of giggling fauntlings.

"I know this magic," he heard his Uncle whisper from beside him.

"Hullo, everyone."

As Luna stepped out from behind the Party Tree, the blossoms on the branches above began to glow softly, bathing her in a gentle light.

"Miss Luna!"

The surrounding hobbits cried out in joy and many rushed forward to welcome her with kisses and hugs. She came dressed as one of their own; she wore a pale yellow dress and a light brown cropped jacket that covered her arms. Her feet were clad in soft leather flats and there were ribbons woven into her hair.

Fíli watched it all happen in a state of awe. Long had he teased his brother for fancying those of the non-dwarven race, but it wasn't until now that he slowly began to understand the fascination behind it all. He even felt himself smile at the encounter between the one the hobbits called Luna and his _mildly inebriated_ Uncle. He hadn't seen his Uncle Thorin look so ridiculously happy since Bilbo announced his wish to live the rest of his days in Erebor.

He had kept an eye on the bewitching guest as she flitted and mingled with the gathered hobbits. She danced, drank, and laughed with both the Shirelings and his kin as if they were long time friends. It wasn't until he took his eyes off her that he noticed it was now dark and the party was still going strong; albeit there were more than a few that were passed out under tables—his brother and Uncle were among the casualties. He had just turned to refill his mug of ale when he felt a hand grip his forearm and pulled him away. Startled, he turned to face his captor and felt as if he had just been uprooted from the earth, only to fall into the endless blue of her eyes.

"Walk with me, Fíli son of Dís?" She breathed against his cheek; they were that close that he could feel the heat emanating from her body.

To this day, Fíli would often find himself wondering: what would have been different had he not accepted her offer of a walk under the stars?

**A/N: Thank you for waiting so patiently for me to update! You're all so kind and supportive, so this chapter is for all of you who were ever curious about how Fíli and Luna came to be.**


	23. Interosculate

in·ter·os·cu·late  
_verb__  
_to form a connecting link

She had just decided to seal off the land her home resided on, but quickly realized that it would require more magic than her body could produce. To compensate for the additional strain of casting such a spell, a sacrifice of blood was required. She had no idea that her father was listening in to her musings to herself while she puttered about their living room. And Xenophilius Lovegood wanted nothing more than for his daughter to continue living the miraculous life she had been given.

No sooner had she finished her Fire Call with Blaise regarding the spell had she felt the magic of her home tug on her heart strings. Images of her Mother's death assaulted her and her eyes went wide with shock.

"Papa, no!"

She was out the door and running as fast as her feet could carry her. She could already see the bursts of light through the cracks of the old building her mother used to use to experiment with her spell work. She had just barely reached for the door handle when the door blew backwards and she had to dive out of the way to avoid being hit. Disoriented, she struggled to her feet and was further confused when gentle hands helped her to her feet.

_"__Come along, darling."_

"M-Mama?"

Surely her eyes were deceiving her! No magic could bring back the dead; at least no magic she had come across! Suddenly cautious, she squeezed the hand that gently gripped hers and felt the tears that blurred her vision. Her mother looked as elegant as she always did; a yellow sundress hidden beneath a badly stained lab coat and barefoot as always.

_"__Quickly, Luna dear! We don't have much time, you know. We are quite late!"_

As Luna followed her mother's glowing form into the building, she felt her breath come in gasps and her tears wouldn't stop falling. _I don't understand. Mama, you're dead!_ Luna thought frantically for it seemed even her words were stolen from her.

When she could finally catch her breath, she was kneeling before the very spot her Mother had perished at. But instead of her Mother standing in that same dreaded spot, her father stared down at her with all the love he possessed.

"Papa…what…?"

_"__My life, willingly given, for hers."_

Her parents' voices were one and magic itself seemed to speak for her to fill in the blanks of what she couldn't comprehend. This was exactly what her mother had done all those years ago!

"No!" she tried to run to them, to break apart their embrace and stop the magic from climbing into the rafters. "No! I'm not willing! I'm not! Papa, Mama, please!" Her hands merely passed through her parent's forms and Luna felt as if the earth had dropped out from under her. "Mama, don't! Not Papa, please! _Please!"_

"Oh, Luna. Dry your tears, love. Neither of us could ever follow where you go now." Xenophilius knew this would hurt his daughter; he knew it from the moment his wife visited him in dreams to prepare him for this day. Pandora Lovegood may have died on their land, but her spirit nor her magic had never completely left it.

_"__Just remember, my dearest Luna. You are the greatest magic we have ever created."_

"Don't!" She screamed just as the building blew apart and the strands of magic that connected her to her father snapped violently. The force of the sudden onslaught of magic had her on her back and in violent spasms; her body felt as if lightning were streaking through her veins and thunder rumbled in her ears. Her last coherent thought before darkness took her sight was if her friends in this world were ready for what was to come.


	24. Grok

grok  
_[slang]  
__verb  
_1) to understand thoroughly and intuitively  
2) to communicate sympathetically

Luna fell through time and space, her body still suffering from the phantom pains of being burned from the inside out. Circe, even her eyes felt like they were on fire, but the sudden rush of wind past her ears had her eyes flying open in alarm.

Oh, sweet Merlin! She was literally falling from the sky!

'_Fly!'_

She turned her aching head away from the sight of a ground that looked miles below her yet steadily getting closer. She knew that authoritative screech anywhere.

"Gwaihir," she whispered; it was difficult to manage her voice to be any louder than that. She vaguely remembered screaming herself hoarse before she blacked out.

'_If you do not open your wings soon, even I will be unable to save you!'_

But falling wasn't so bad. After all, nothing would hurt anymore once she hit the ground.

'_You are The-Wings-of-Silver-Light* and you _will_ fly when I command you to!'_

The magic that bound her to Eagles roared awake with a vengeance; Luna couldn't even gather air in her lungs to scream when she felt the Change forcing its way through her body. Bones snapped and elongated as her mass grew; feathers burst through her pores and she truly did scream then. However, her vocal chords were no longer that of a human and what came out of her mouth was the piercing cry of an Eagle. Never had the Change been a forced effort and never had it put her through such pain. With her wings now open, she groaned internally at the additional aches to her joints, but she was no longer hurtling towards the ground to her death.

'_Thank you, My Lord.'_

If birds could snort in disdain, he managed to before he gently brushed his wing tips against hers.

'_You are far too loved by the people of this world for me to allow yourself to give up now.'_

**A/N: This is a companion piece to the previous chapter.  
* refers to LittleBigSpoon's **_**Child of the Earth and Sky on AO3.**_


	25. Periphrasis

pe·riph·ra·sis  
_noun_  
1) the use of unnecessarily long or roundabout form of expression; circumlocution  
2) an expression phrased in such a fashion

"She's your One, isn't she?"

The sudden stiffness of his brother's shoulders was the only confirmation Kíli needed. Whatever pity he held for himself in the past now grew tenfold for his sibling. At least with Tauriel, he knew where he stood with her. She would always be nearby in some way or another; sometimes they even met in dreams when they would be too far a distance for even letter writing. He shared his worries with her—this topic in particular had him walking on eggshells whenever he even thought to bring it up in the company of his family.

"The Maker have mercy," Kíli sighed and lightly elbowed his brother out of his way. "That's not even a proper courting bead."

Fíli snorted and continued his quiet, meticulous carving. So far, all he had managed were the runs for the Line of Durin, but was struggling to personalize it in a way that his One would appreciate. Luna was one of the most difficult puzzles he had ever been given, and he was starting to think that she was never meant to be solved.

"I know, but it's not as if we haven't already taken the steps." The fact that they skipped most of the steps went unsaid.

"At least let me add something to it. You're utterly useless when it comes to girly things."

The silver bead indeed looked woefully plain even with the runes and Kíli had the perfect idea of what would look best. He had previously spoken to Uncle Bilbo about Luna's time in the shire regarding the things she appreciated and what she did there.

Grumbling under his breath, Fíli handed over the tools to Kíli and took a step back. Maybe he did need an outside suggestion; he had never put much thought into what we would do if he ever found his One. Neither did he ever believe his One could be from another race as well.

"You think Uncle knows?"

Kíli's bark-like laugh turned into a harsh cough at his brother's question.

"Oh, aye. I imagine he and the entire mountain knows. Brother," he paused to look over his shoulder, "you would think the rest of the world didn't exist if you saw the way the two of you are together."

Instead of shoving his brother in good-nature, as he was prone to doing, Fíli felt a stupid grin curl his lips as he began to think of the last time he saw her. She had just tossed a guard recruit over her shoulder and turned to blow a kiss at him from the training arena.

"See? That look right there!" Kíli chuckled and rolled his eyes before lightly blowing silver dust off the bead. While it was good to see his brother in such a sappy mood, there was one nagging question that just had to be asked.

"Do you think Uncle Thorin would approve?"

His brother's lovesick smile morphed into a frown for just a moment. Then, in Fíli's usual way, he scratched at his beard and shrugged.

"Probably not, but refusing Luna as my one would be like asking the stars to stop shining at night."

**A/N: I almost find this chapter as sweet as it is sad, but it does serve its purpose. Thank you for reading and drop me a review on what you think ;)**


	26. Taradiddle

tar·a·did·dle  
_noun  
_a small lie; fib

Being in charge of anything was usually a minor inconvenience. It would, of course, consist of minor annoyances as they came, but it was more or less fairly simple to handle. Being a King, however, was drastically different and was sometimes a trying experience. Especially, when one had a brood of wayward children who outright refused to behave themselves.

The current meeting had gone fairly well in his opinion, but it was far too quiet for his comfort. He knew from experience that when times were quiet, chaos was inevitably around the corner.

"Théodred," he whispered into his son's ear, "Where are your cousins?"

The young heir gulped audibly, but kept his expression as serene as possible, his gaze never wavering from the war council meeting going on before him.

"I believe that Éomer is giving some of the village lads a lesson in swordsmanship."

"And Éowyn?"

"She's...uh...watching?"

_Not likely,_ thought an immediately suspicious Théoden and he poked his son with the writing quill he was holding.

"Was that a question or a statement, my son?"

"Er...that is...um, both?"

_This doesn't bode well for anyone,_ he mused while he half listened to Grimbold describe the current state of their armory. Clearing his throat to halt the meeting, he nodded to his fellow countrymen.

"My good men, I feel we have discussed much already, but there are pressing matters that I must see to." He pretended not to notice how rapidly his son was suddenly fascinated with his boots. "So I think it's best if we reconvene after supper?"

._._._._._.

He honestly didn't know what he was expecting when he came down to the training field. Well, that wasn't completely true; he half expected to find his niece and nephew locked together in a vicious spar that would have the village children cheering. He wasn't too far off—Éomer and Éowyn were indeed crossing blades, but not with each other.

Luna was holding her own very well; she bore two swords of unfamiliar make and her eyes stayed locked onto the siblings in front of her. From the looks of them, they had been sparring for quite some time: Éowyn was sporting a nasty bruise on her right cheek and Éomer's face was red with exertion. For just a split-second, Luna's gaze met with Théoden's and her sparring partners' followed her gaze to their Uncle's. Both looked suitably shocked and sheepish to be caught doing what they weren't supposed to and Luna chose that moment to strike. In one fluid movement, she dipped under Éomer's guard and delivered a solid head-butt to his temple. While he spat out a litany of Rohirric curses, Luna shifted her grip on one of her blades and swung the hilt into Éowyn's gut.

"Cheater!" wheezed the younger woman as she used her sword to keep her upright.

Using her sleeve to wipe the sweat from her brow, Luna laughed at her friends. It wasn't often that she got to spar with some of the Big Folk; she tended to spend more of her time among the Hobbits and Dwarrows as of late.

"Oh, don't be angry with me. Not every wielder of a blade will fight as honorably as your brother or cousin!"

"Hey! I can _to_ fight without honor!" A sputtering Théodred charged forward, completely forgetting his father's presence.

Luna eyed him like he was something she'd scrape of the bottom of her boots.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really! Girl or not, I can fight you as well as any man and win! Don't think I've forgotten that frog you left in my bed last spring!"

"Actually cousin, that was me." A sheepish Éomer tried to interject but was shushed by his now irate cousin.

"It matters not who did it! Nevertheless! I, Prince Théodred of Rohan—"

"…how Uncle manages to keep him from running his nonsensical mouth, I'll never know," muttered Éowyn whilst helping her brother get to his feet.

"—have issued a challenge! Do you accept you villainous wench?!"

"The Valar forbid I don't," Luna sighed and held out one of her swords for him to take.

King Théoden rolled his eyes at their antics and sat down on the bench that carried the weight of his niece and nephew. Éowyn was already inspecting her brother's face for any lasting damage.

"I see the two of you are none the worse for wear. She must have gone easy on you this time."

His niece gave an unladylike snort while his nephew winced.

"Uncle, she no longer fights like how she did when we were children!" She took the cold cloth offered by one of the village children. "She fights as though she's seen battle."

"I would not doubt it, my dear. You have all grown up to be fierce warriors." He felt as though it was just the other day that the four of them had burst into his study brandishing wooden swords and demanding he surrender to them. He let out a soft chuckle at the following memory of them scowling at one another in the Healer's hall.

"We're going to be the best warriors of Rohan," Éomer stated and flinched when Luna stomped on his cousin's instep.

Théoden made no reply but instead patted the shoulder of his nephew in a comforting manner. He knew they would do him proud, but for now he would enjoy watching over his children while they could still play the part.


	27. Wroth: Part 1

wroth  
_adjective_  
1) stormy; violent

"But I want to fight, Gandalf! My friends will be out there, fighting for their lives! Regardless of how they treated me, I still value them!"

"My dear Bilbo, a stout heart you may have, but this coming battle is no place for a hobbit like yourself." It wounded the old wizard to see his young friend so distraught over the matter, but they just didn't have the means to spare to accommodate him.

"I cannot sit idly while you all go to war! The worry itself will drive me mad with anxiety. Surely you can understand that! There must be something—_anything—_I can do!"

Bard could not bear the hobbit's distress any longer and he wondered, for a brief second, if it would help any:

"Master Baggins, if you would be amenable, would you escort my people away from danger? King Thranduil has graciously offered up part of his home to serve as a makeshift refugee camp."

Bilbo's shoulders dropped in defeat, the earlier tension quickly leaving him. How could he possible refuse? Bard's people had sheltered him and the company when they had stayed at Laketown. And the loss of their home was mostly his fault after dealing with Smaug.

"O-Of course, Bard." His voice shook with his weariness and he ran a tired hand through his disheveled curls. "I…I will gather the necessary provisions if there are any to spare." He bowed politely and fled the tent without waiting for a reply.

Gandalf sighed and nodded in thanks to Bard.

"That was very kind of you, Master Bard."

"You may call it a kindness, but I feel that all of this could have been settled under a less tense environment." He glanced over at the still silent Elf Lord, who was watching them both like a hawk.

._._._._._.

_Royal Suites, Erebor  
Same time…_

"I cannot believe you!"

Fíli ducked the stool that was aimed at his head. By Mahal, but was Luna in a mood today.

"Luna, you don't understand," he raised his hands in the air in a gesture to placate her. "It wasn't just some 'pretty rock' as Bilbo said. It's Thorin's right to rule! He had no business—"

Anger and grief clouded Luna's vision and she began to wonder if this was the same dwarf who had captured her affections.

"He cares for all of you! Is that so bad?! He just wanted peace and if you had been listening, he would have gladly used his portion of the treasure—_don't you roll your eyes at me! You knew perfectly well it was his to do with as he wished!_ And don't you lecture me on that thrice damned rock that you and your kin selfishly covet more than your own lives!"

She had grown up seeing exactly what the Arkenstone had done; it was the cause of darkness that ailed King Thrór's line of succession. It took her some odd years to understand the magic that resided within the stone—years of tests in the Room of Requirement during her free time as a student—and what she found had her soul cringing away in revulsion. So when she had initially injected her own magic into it as a child, her only understanding of it at the time was that kisses made bad things all better*. It wasn't until she personally escorted Thrór and his kin to the Halls of Waiting that she found out it was _her_ magic that broke through the madness that was the former king's gold-sickness.

Her tie to the Arkenstone is what had her forcing her magic to bring her back to Middle Earth despite already having visited in the past week. The strain between the constant visits had left her disoriented, but no less pissed when Legolas explained what had happened between Bilbo and Thorin.

And in front of everyone, no less.

"Luna. Love, please. I don't wish to fight with you. Not when you're obviously ill and not in the mood to listen to reason—" He expertly caught the knife that she threw at him. "_That was uncalled for!_"

Never had he ever raised a hand against her in anger, but for once he was sorely tempted. The only thing stopping him was how she had sagged to the floor and her breathing was labored. As irritated as he was with her right now, he still genuinely cared for her well-being.

"Wait here. I'll see if Óin can spare a moment to come see you." There was no fight left in his tone anymore. Too much had happened in such a short period of time that he couldn't process it all just yet.

Luna was still panting slightly, but managed to pull herself back onto her feet. As much as she loved Fíli and the other Dwarrows, there was still so much left to do. And deep in her heart, she knew what she would have to do if she wanted to keep them safe.

"I'm sorry, Fíli." Her voice trembled with the sob that caught in her throat, "but I can't wait for you or Thorin to come back to us."

Before he could even comprehend what she intended to do, he found himself shouting in terror when she suddenly turned and ran for the balcony. His heart thundered in his chest and his fingers just barely brushed the ends of her hair when she cleared the railing and fell.

"LUNA, NO!"

The only response he was given was the tender trill of an Eagle that hovered just out of reach. Though he understood that this meant she was actually safe, the stress of everything finally came crashing down on him and he shouted his frustration up at the sky.

**A/N: I can barely contain how excited I am that I can finally post this two-part chapter. I have been itching to write and post this since as far back as Chapter 9 (Guile) and I just can't wait to see all of your reactions! Part 2 should be up by either tonight or tomorrow morning.**


	28. Wroth: Part 2

wroth  
_adjective_  
2) angry; wrathful

Bilbo had thought he had experienced battle before.

Especially after being chased by wargs and killing spiders the size of ponies, but never had he truly realized the chaos that was war. Under the encouragement of Bard's eldest, Tilda, he had left the caravan of refugees and joined the battle just as Azog and his hellish army arrived. The Elves, Men, and Dwarves were forced into an alliance, but there was no clear organisation. He did what he could with the aid of his magic ring and he wondered if he was of any help at all. What little aid he could give, he managed to locate most of the Company, but there was still no sign of Thorin, nor his nephews, which was rather worrying since he was still unsure of their current metnal states.

Presently, he was fighting alongside Thranduil's Captain of his guard. She had adamantly refused to leave his side after he took the head off of a goblin that had snuck up behind her.

"Bilbo!"

He barely had a chance to dodge when he was barreled over by a gigantic brown blur that stood roaring above him. To his amazement, he was mostly unharmed as if the creature took great care not to crush him. He had covered been preparing to plunge sting into the belly of the beast, but his eyes caught sight of the remnants of shackles on the creatures legs and he sighed in relief.

"Beorn!"

The mighty skin-changer huffed and gve him a short nod before ripping the arm of an approaching orc, leaving room for Bilbo to get back onto his feet. He adjusted his shaky grip of Sting and reassured Tauriel that he was both unharmed and that Beorn was indeed an ally. He had just charged back into the madnessw hen large, shadowy shapes descended from the sky. He knew from Gandalf's stories that he Eagles of Manwë held no love twoards the dark creatures of Middle Earth, and it seemed theat they had emptied their Eyrie to join the fight. One Eagle in particular must have had a suicidal streak for it was plunging straight down from sky, its wings tucked close to its body and it showed no sign of opening its wings to stop. It struck the ground with a force hard enough to make the Earth tremble and a wave of dust and dirt blew back ally and enemy alike.

Tauriel squinted at the area of the dust cloud and felt her stomach drop to her toes.

_"Sweet Elbereth, no!"_

Bilbo heard her startled gasp and grunted as he took an unexpected punch to his gut, but sucked in a quick breath to slice at the offending orc that struck him.

"Tauriel? Tauriel, wait!" She didn't even hear him and he was alredy hot on her heels when she took off running. What ever it was she saw must have shocked her something awful to have her moving so fast. Fearing he would lose her since he was unable to match her speed, he blew out a sharp whistle to gain the attention of his friend that was still fighting beside him.

"Beorn! This way!"

The skin-changer snarled and broke out of the hold that a warg had on him. He easily caught up to Bilbo and the hobbit didn't hesitate to grab a handful of the fur on Beorn's back in order to boost himself up. Beorn was a lot bigger and more muscular than a pony, so Bilbo struggled to stay seated, but what he saw when they finally caught up to Tauriel damn near had him falling off the bear.

Of all places, why did she have to be _here?_

._._._._._.

When she had left Fíli in Erebor, Luna had flown at top speed back to the Eyrie. It didn't take much to convince Gwaihir to go to battle; the great lord of the Eagles had been itching for a battle for quiet some time now. Luna thought rescusing the dwarves kick-started the menacing spark in his eyes anytime anyone mentioned the word "orc". But he would not let their warriors fly off to the dwarves rescue just yet:

_"You are going to rest."_

_"But-"_

_"No buts or my brother and I will sit on you until you've regained your strength, little fledgling."_

_She squawked weakly in protest; she really was exhausted, but they did not have time to sit and do nothing!_

_"Come and rest your eyes, Changeling." Landroval crooned and lifted his wing to invite her to rest beside him. "Calm your nerves and steady your heart. The others will hunt while you sleep. If you remain on your feet any longer, I fear you will start molting." He gave the bird equivalent of a laugh when she huffed in agitation but settled herself beside him. "Can't have one of our fiercest warriors going to battle looking like something a rain cloud spat out."_

_So she had gotten some well-deserved rest and had Changed into her human form in order to dig through her own nest. She had previously stashed an abundance of preserved potions for emergencies such as this. It wasn't often that she used potions from her world since they tended to have an odd effect on her in Middle Earth, but it was nothing she couldn't shake off in time. She picked up the vial of Felix Felicis and stared at it for quite some time before setting it back in its hiding place in her nest. She wouldn't use it here and not in a place where such a thing would make those she cared about far too suspicious of her. Sighing, she grabbed a handful of Vitamix Potions and Invigorating Draughts and tucked those into her enchanted pocket that acted similar to a bottomless bag. The vials themselves were charmed to be unbreakable which became quite useful during the occasional skirmish where she would have just enough time to pop the cork and down the potion. Now would be a good opportunity to take some._

_In her past experiences, there were very few ill side effects if she took both and today, she would gladly accept the risks if it meant she could save more lives. Steadying her nerves, she thumped open the corks off of two vials and downed them both. Luna wanted to gag from just how badly it tasted, but soon found herself brimming with energy that she could barely contain. Feeling the sudden urge fly, she Changed back into her Eagle form and waddled back over to Landroval's nest._

_He had been watching her with observant eyes and preened her suddenly vibrant feathers on her head. He had always had a fond affection for the the Eyrie's little Changeling and he felt almost proud to see her ready to defend Middle Earth from the great evils that plagued the land. But a part of him feared how much her travels had begun to wear her down and he feared the day she would reach her breaking point. And if it were to be this day, he would make sure either he, his brother, or one of the other Eagles would be there for her._

_"Ready to fly?"_

_"Always._ _"_

Luna hadn't really intended to scare everyone at the battle. Well, maybe some of the orcs and goblins, but they had better be frightened of an Eagle the size of whale ready to eviscerate them. She had first surveyed the clash of the five armies with a careful eye, searching for particular people and was both pleased to see that they were in a general area apart from one another. The Ravens had filled her in on what happened what with the arrival of Azog and just who was doing what. Thranduil was still being an almighty jackass and Thorin was still a little out of it. Oh, and Legolas decided to be King of the Idiots by professing his undying love for Tauriel, who happened to be enamored by one of the Dwarf heirs to Erebor.

Ravens were awful gossips and tended to tell everything instead of the specifics she asked for.

So when she caught site of a particular dwarf being overwhelmed by a group of orcs and a certain idiot Princeling go to his rescue, Luna internally groaned and flew as high up into the sky as she could go before tucking her wings in close to her body and fell into what she called "The Eagle Death Dive". However, she had no intention of snapping her wings open at the last possible second, oh no. She wanted to use the element of surprise while she still felt brave enough to do so.

Although hitting the ground had certainly shaken her bones since she transformed at the last moment and the impact of the magic she used to cushion her landing sent a shock wave throughout the battle. Ears ringing, she grunted and reached for the bow strapped to her back while her other hands gripped an arrow out from her quiver.

She had some idiots to save and a hell of a lot of anger to burn through.

**A/N: My apologies for not uploading this sooner. The Fall Semester just started and my already hectic schedule just got a whole lot worse, so updates may be slow.**


	29. Livid

liv·id  
_adjective_  
enraged; furiously angry

Fíli picked up a dwarvish axe after he lost one of his swords in a scuffle that had him pinned. He still wasn't happy that it was the Elf prince who saved him, but he was damn glad to still be alive. Although, when a particular presence crash-landed onto the battlefield and made eye contact with him, he suddenly preferred to be very much dead at this moment. And to his morbid satisfaction, his Elvish comrade readily agreed. Neither was looking forward to the confrontation that was sure to come after the battle; they were also hoping she would burn through most of her anger before that confrontation occurred.

"_You hard-headed—"_

An orc squealed as it was gutted like a pig.

"—_stubborn—"_

A knife slid from the toe of her boot and solidly connected with the rib cage of her intended victim.

"—_selfish—"_

She plucked out the arrow that she had previously shot into an eye of a warg and used it to plunge into the heart of a goblin.

"—_bloody idiots!"_ She screamed her rage and didn't hesitate to duck a blade aiming for her throat. She tumbled forward, knives sliding into her hands as she got to her feet to send them flying.

If they weren't in the middle of a battle, Fíli would have proposed to her then and there. By the Maker but was Luna ever magnificent in her fury. He had known that she could fight, but not with such ferocity and accuracy.

"_**Focus, you brain-boiled cur!"**_ She barked in Khuzdul and he shared a look with Prince Legolas, who had also received a scathing command in his people's language from the enraged woman. They both gulped and nodded to one another.

"Prince Legolas."

"Prince Fíli."

"Good luck to you," they said simultaneously before running after the seemingly unstoppable woman who was cutting a bloody path towards the other members of the Company.

._._._._._.

The battle was hard, but the alliance of Men, Dwarves and Elves won out in the end. The royal family of Erebor lay in cots in the King's tent; they were heavily injured but they would live. Although it was one of the rare times they had wished they hadn't. Why everyone and their brother decided it would be a wonderful idea to congregate into the same tent clearly wasn't expecting this outcome.

First it was Fíli and Kíli, who were naturally welcomed as they were just about as damaged as their Uncle. Then Dwalin and Balin soon came in, followed by Óin, Gloin, the Brothers of Ri and the Ur Clan. And somehow even Thranduil and his confused offspring got roped into joining the Company in the tent. As much as Thranduil was known for being a royal jackass, he did truly care for his son. So he was willing to set aside his great distaste for the Dwarrows and offered to tend to their wounds. That and to keep a watchful eye on his son, who was sitting in a cowed manner beside the blond prince of Erebor.

"This is an unsettling development," commented a weary King Under the Mountain to the Lord of the Woodland Realm.

"Agreed," Thranduil inclined his head in their direction and reached for another bandage. "One has to wonder how it is those two became acquainted to the point of camaraderie. As well as fear," he noted by how the two blonds seemed to be looking towards the entrance of the tent as if expecting Durin's Bane to come charging in.

"I'm sure it's just—Mahal's hammer, Óin! Could you not poke the clearly broken appendage?!—just post-battle nerves. It will pass in time." Thorin winced when Óin decided to apply some foul smelling salve onto his back.

"As you say. And has _it_ passed in time?" Thranduil gave Thorin a pointed stare and refused to break eye contact until he was satisfied with what he saw in them.

Thorin opened his mouth to speak, to accept his past actions, but was interrupted by a commotion outside the back end of his tent.

"…did not train you to act so rashly! You will sit down before you fall down!"

The near-hysterical laugh sent chills down the spines of the occupants of the tent and had a few of them creeping towards the direction of the argument.

"You are not the only one to train me to fight! I have been fighting long before you even knew who I was! I have sacrificed more than you could ever try to comprehend to be standing here fighting for those who would discard me without a second thought!"

"Luna, mellon nîn, it is not like that. No one here would do such a thing."

"Thorin discarded Bilbo as if he were trash meant to be thrown out!"

Thorin flinched and noticed how those within his tent were trying their best to look anywhere but at him. Luna's words rang true and with all that had happened so far, Thorin was reluctant to even approach the topic with anyone. Let alone himself.

"And Fíli…_my Fíli,_" the sob that tried to escape her warped itself into an agonized whimper, "would not listen to me! None of those royal idiots saw fit to listen to someone who cared for their safety!"

This time, it was Fíli's turn to stare at the ground in shame. His nails cut deep into his palms as he squeezed his hands into fists and he closed his eyes at the memory of the haggard state he had seen his beloved fall into before she flew off to send for aid.

"Please, Luna," Tauriel begged of her distraught friend, "you must rest. At least let someone see to your physical hurts."

Alarmed at the thought of one his best fighters injured, Thranduil bit the proverbial bullet and cleared his throat from within the tent. Certain members of the company stared at him in abject horror once they realized his intention.

"Tauriel."

"My lord?"

The red haired elleth turned her head to the tent and heard the scuffle of feet as the majority of the company vacated the tent.

"The Dwarvish Healer and I are quite capable of attending to our guest. She may rest here with the Heirs of the mountain."

"…of course, my lord." Even Tauriel was hesitant to bring Luna into that environment. Her dear friend may have been bordering on hysterics, but she was still sane enough that once those words registered, she led herself into the tent.

Actually, if one saw it from the Durins' point of view, the tent flaps blew open and what walked in could verily be the end of them all. Her usually soft hair was tangled and matted with blood against her back and she was barely able to stand on her own; Tauriel's hands supporting her back was proof enough.

"Luna," Thranduil kept his voice even and held out a hand to her. Never had he seen the treasure of his realm look so defeated.

"Not now, Thranduil." She felt as if every breath that passed through her lips was being squeezed out of her lungs, but she could not stop now. Yes, her body and her heart hurt but that had not stopped her before from doing what needed to be done. "Let me speak with my One alone, and then I will let you and Mister Óin provide treatment."

He had denied her many things while she was growing up, but this was one of those moments he truly felt he would be unable to do so.

"As you wish. Legolas, help the King to his feet. We will be going to the Healer's Tent. Tauriel," he turned to his Captain to issue orders, but she was already helping the other Prince of Erebor walk out of the tent. Sighing at what he saw, he kept his words to himself and ushered the others out of the tent to give the two blonds some privacy.

"Luna…I…" Fíli didn't even know what to say. He knew more than most the cost to her health whenever she visited too often and how much she hid from them so they wouldn't worry. When he had seen her before the battle, all the signs were there. He may have been caught up with the Arkenstone incident, but damn it all, she should have come first.

"You're a fool," her voice was a hoarse whisper that cut deeper than any of his current wounds.

"Luna, please. I—"

"I'm not done yet," she growled and she took a staggering step towards him. "You're a fool because you would not listen to Bilbo, to my _kin_, who wanted you to be safe." Her vision was starting to blur around the edges, but she sucked in a harsh breath to keep herself focused. "You're also a coward for doing nothing when Thorin was threatening to throw Bilbo to his death. Would you have done nothing if it was me?"

The memory of Luna falling to what he thought was her death tugged violently at his heart strings and he could only gape at her in horror.

"Luna, no. I would never let Uncle Thorin bring harm to my One. Never!"

"But Thorin was more than willing to harm his One!" Tears gathered in her eyes and the aching urge to give in to cry was beginning to overwhelm her. "Why didn't he listen to him?!"

"Luna…" she was starting to scare him. His Beloved was trembling and he could see the pain in her every movement.

"_Why didn't you care enough to listen to me?_" Her boot snagged on the rug and she tumbled forward in a wail of anger, pain, and despair. She curled in on herself and cried for the pain she had felt through her link to Bilbo. She had felt his fear that his One would kill him and his fear became her own when Fíli also refused to listen to reason. That fear brought dark thoughts that made her more reckless and more eager to embrace the adrenaline of battle and death. She felt solid arms gather her close and was pulled onto Fíli's lap. His lips brushed against the tears down her cheeks and he kissed away the pain she refused to share with anyone.

"I have no excuses to give you," his voice was as harsh as hers was and her sobs filled his ears. "You're right that I was a fool and a coward. I let the Gold Sickness take hold of me and put an inanimate object above the well-being of my One." He gently rocked her and took her face in his hands. "Luna. Love, please, no amount of apologies can fix the hurt I've given you. But let me share your hurts for once."

Luna knew she looked a horrid mess with tears cutting through the sweat and blood caked onto her face. She felt the whiskers of Fíli's mustache braids brush against her skin as he kissed her tears away. As hurt as she was by his and his Uncle's actions, she felt her heart mend a bit at the gesture and the tight lid that she had steadfastly kept on her innermost fears cracked open.

"Luna, look at me. Look at me, please." He was getting through to her. He saw it in the way she chewed on her bottom lip and the way she sniffled before her eyes met his. He sighed in relief when she threw her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"**Fili, I'm afraid."** She whispered to him in khuzdul and he could hear the tremors in her voice.

"**Afraid of what, Ghishavel?"**

"**To let go."** She snuggled herself closer against him as if to hide from the rising tide of emotions that were ready to crash down on her.

"**It's alright. I'm here and I love you. It's okay. I'm here."**

._._._._._.

Thorin was both saddened and grateful for the cries that came out of his tent. It drowned out the sound of his own sobs as he kneeled before the Company Burglar, who, according to Thranduil, may not wake ever again.

**A/N: The timeline is starting to line up now. The coming chapters are going to be filling in some gaps and hopefully answer some questions some of you may have. **


	30. Fiddlestick

fid·dle·stick  
_noun_  
anything; a bit

"That foolish girl!"

"There, there, Professor. It caught me off guard after my mother told me." Blaise Zabini sipped at this season's honey mead from the Hog's Head.

"At least you got a fair warning," grumbled Neville from his end of the table. "My Gran nearly cursed her out of the Manor when Luna came by for a visit." That was a disturbing day to remember and it took lots of coaxing and diagnostic spells until his Gran was satisfied that Luna wasn't the next Dark Witch on the rise.

It was an odd sort of gathering in the Hog's Head this evening. Men who normally were not seen together were present because of the one person that they all shared in common.

"…not understand the sheer amount of danger she is exposing herself to?!"

"I believe you mean what she's _been_ exposing herself to, Uncle Sev." Draco poured himself another shot of Blishen's Firewhisky. Aberforth was kind enough to just hand him the bottle with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

His Godfather was still on his tirade about how he hadn't noticed how ridiculously powerful Luna Lovegood was. Although to be fair, it had certainly got him off guard as well; it took weeks of prodding Blaise after the Reunion Ball Incident to get the truth. And when he had confided his findings to his mother, Narcissa Malfoy merely lifted a finely sculptured brow and cracked a smile.

Apparently, Luna's long-deceased mother had quite the reputation that extended well beyond what his generation knew.

"Just how long has this been going on for?!"

Severus Snape was utterly beside himself with frustration. Of all the students to pass through Hogwarts, Luna Lovegood was ranked fairly low on the surprise scale. Sure, Pandora Lovegood née Malfoy was a bit of an odd duck—she was from the branch descended from Septimus Malfoy after all—but she wasn't anything special by Slytherin standards.

"Uh oh, sounds like he knows."

The infamous Weasley twins shook the snow from their coats and wiped their feet on the welcome mat. They had closed up shop early after Harry sent them a Fire Call to be damage control at the Hog's Head. And based off of who was assembled, it didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

"_You_ _imbeciles know?!"_

"Professor, we're arrogant not ignorant." George hung up his and his brother's coat on the rack and took a seat between Neville and Draco.

"That and we grew up nearly next door to her family. The magic on the Lovegood's land is warped in its own way." Fred ran a hand through his hair and settled at the bar next to Blaise. "Cheers, mate."

"What in Circe's name do you mean it's _warped?"_

"Oh, goody. Looks like mostly everyone is here."

Harry Potter bit back the urge to laugh. They were an odd bunch to all be in the same place: the current Headmaster of Hogwarts, one of St. Mungo's top healers, the Zabini heir, the Head of the Malfoy family, Dumbledore's brother, the Weasley twins and the Head Auror. All in what was considered one of the shadiest pubs in Hogsmeade.

"Hey Harry!"

"Mr. Potter."

"Hey Scar Head."

"Heya Harry—"

"—our generous partner!"

"Evening, Harry."

"You!"

"Yes, Professor, it's me. And I've got the truth behind Xenophilius Lovegood's disappearance." He took the seat at the head of table and nodded to Aberforth, who flicked his wand towards the door so that it locked and the pub sign read "closed".

"Harry, does this have anything to do with why Luna's home is suddenly unplottable?" Fred voiced his concern.

"Or why the Quibbler is no longer running?"

"Yes, Fred. And yes, Neville. I noticed it too after I sent an owl with an inquiry to the Quibbler's headquarters. It's been shut down completely and last I checked Luna isn't even in this world right now."

Blaise's breath was inhaled in a sharp hiss.

"That's too soon. She only just came back a week ago and Mother spent two days forcing her to rest."

"If she had been resting, what would have caused her to seal off her family's land? It's not like her to decide things on whim." Neville massaged his temples and bounced his leg in an agitated manner. "Luna may be…out there, but she does extensive planning before she acts on anything."

Severus donned his well-known sneer and scoffed at what he was hearing.

"Are you sure we're talking about the same Luna Lovegood? The same air-headed girl who constantly lost her belongings and gave the most ridiculous commentaries during Quidditch matches?"

"If you had been half the teacher you were supposed to be, you would have known well enough that her housemates stole her things!" Neville's outburst had several jaws dropping in awe since it was their former Potions Professor he was talking back to.

"And I happened to like Miss Lovegood's commentaries. My brother would record them and share them for me when he visited," was Aberforth's contribution to the conversation.

"We are not here to judge our friend based on her past. I thought we were all beyond that phase, right Professor?" Harry's pointed stare had his former teacher pursing his lips and looking away from his old student's gaze. Satisfied that his point had been made, Harry checked his pocket watch and nodded. "Look, we don't have much time for me to go over everything. I'm sure everyone has some form of paper work awaiting them when we're done so let's try to get as much done as we can.

"One week ago, Luna returned to our world via her connection to Zabini Manor. She was using the location to recuperate and recharge her magic from the land there. A few days later, she returned to her family's land and sealed off the property. I'm going to assume that she's been gone since then."

Blaise paled when the memory of his last Fire Call with Luna surfaced in his mind's eye. They were speaking of a sacrifice of blood required to seal it off, but they hadn't planned anything yet. They didn't even know where to begin let alone who to sacrifice.

"H-Harry…how long has Mr. Lovegood been missing?"

"According to the Goblins' records, he ceased to exist three days ago."

A herd of centaurs could have galloped through the pub and gone unnoticed was the level of attention the small group had on Harry.

"_Ceased to exist?!"_

Was the collective roar of indignation as every one of them couldn't believe their ears. Blaise was already so pale that he almost looked frail when he slumped in his seat. His mind was a flurry of activity and his thoughts leapt from one frightened thought to another. He and Luna knew she was nowhere near powerful to seal off the land by herself, so they came to the conclusion about the sacrifice of blood. And from all of his Mother's teachings, it took him another day to understand that the most powerful sacrifice Luna could offer was a willing one.

And no one was more willing than Xenophilius Lovegood.

"…Blaise? Blaise! Snap out of it!" Draco was shaking his friend who had failed to respond after calling his name several times. "Neville, he's not responsive!"

Blaise could vaguely understand the activity around him, but his mind was on other things. His mother had explained to him how the magical backlash of such a powerful act of magic would be strong enough to nearly burn the magic out of a normal person. And when the magic leveled out, it would have been absorbed by the land. Although those were the circumstances by an unwilling sacrifice—something the Black Widow of Britain knew more than enough about.

But neither Luna nor his mother was the average magical person. Both of them had been saturated in the rawest form of magic known to Wizard kind for years and they would be able to survive it; they would be severely weakened, but they would live.

When he came back to himself, he was lying on the floor and his friends were still in a panicked state. Neville was trying to convince them that something must have triggered his catatonic state and the most he could do under the circumstances was to wait it out. It wouldn't do to have them all charging into St. Mungo's and then having to explain why.

"Blaise? I think he's awake. Come on, mate, blink if you understand us." George hesitantly poked at the other man's face.

Blaise blinked in response and struggled to sit up. Fortunately, most of the group was on the floor next to him and they were more than happy to help him up. Draco was already babbling about how happy he was that he wouldn't have to explain to Blaise's mother that her son died from an anxiety attack and Neville gave him a friendly pat on the back.

"You git. Don't scare us like that."

"Yes, Healer Longbottom," he mumbled and looked up to meet Harry's questioning gaze. "I know what happened to Luna's father."

**A/N: ****I'm not actively trying to mess with you guys. Only a little bit. I'm going to start trying to answer some of your questions with the next couple of chapters, but this may produce more questions. So things will slowly start to make more sense...in the sense that if you've figured it out, you should be able to understand it a bit easier.**


	31. Ad Hockery

ad hoc·ke·ry  
_noun  
_reliance on temporary solutions rather than on consistent, long-term plans

"We worry for you, you know."

Lord Elrond rested his hand on the brow of his most frequent patient and suddenly felt quite weary. His daughter had bathed and clothed their guest while she was still conscious, but now she had slipped away within her mind to heal. Her breathing and heart beat was far too slow for her body to be sustaining itself, but he knew it was a form of deep healing that her body defaulted to when needs were dire.

Luna was the Treasure of Middle Earth and he was starting to wonder if she was even aware of how special she was to everyone. Thranduil guarded her presence with something akin to a dragon guarding his hoard; he thoroughly denied it at every turn to this day. Thrór treated her as his confidant before he descended into madness and she was a dear friend to both the hobbits of the Shire and the Dúnedain. Even his mother-in-law treated the young woman as if she were one of her own; something the Marchwarden constantly complained about when those two were together to plot some kind of mischief within Lothlórien. And rumor had it that she was quite close to the Horse Lords as well.

He had not lived through centuries without knowing when to suspect something was a bit...off about her. For one, she was older than Estel yet she had barely aged once she had reached adulthood. She had been but a girl when she made herself known to King Thrór, yet she had been a tween—according to Bilbo—when she had first come to the Shire. But based off her interactions with Rohan's royal family during Estel's coronation, she had also grown up with them _during the same time_. He recalled a conversation between the three at the coronation reception and had wondered where she had found the time to interact with so many people:

_~Flashback~_

"_Sister, do stop staring. You've already a man of your own." Éomer teased Éowyn with an easy smile while she swatted him on the shoulder with her napkin. Her own beloved was off mingling with the other nobles of Gondor._

"_Just because I have already ordered does not mean I still cannot browse the menu," she snapped back with a teasing glint in her eye, making her brother snort into his mug of ale._

"_You've taught her some bad habits, Luna. Next thing we'll know is she'll usurp the throne from me and I'll be but a squire instead of a King." He stared pointedly at the other blonde seated to his left, who shrugged in that careless manner of hers._

"_You do know that there is more to being King than ordering about the underlings. Your Uncle absolutely detested the paperwork and the constant meetings. Anytime Théodred managed to derail the matter at hand during Council meetings was a blessing in disguise." Her eyes gained that far-off look to them and the Rohan siblings immediately knew of what she spoke of._

"_Last I checked, it was _you_ who challenged us." _

"_Well, it's not like you were obligated to accept it. Your acceptance was the first step to your downfall." Luna took a sip from her wine goblet and ignored the way her two friends let out noises of discontent._

"_Excuse me, but I was not the one who cheated by using Dwarvish steel!"_

"_Pardon? Are you blaming your lack of skill in defeating me on the inferior weaponry you were using at the time?"_

"_Éomer, please. You know she's just baiting you. It was a lesson well-learned if you recall." Éowyn, ever the voice of reason, tried to placate her elder sibling._

"_Hush, sister. This is an important matter that requires settling." _

"_Yes, Éomer. Do go on about how you would like to be trounced yet again by me once more." Luna giggled as she stood from her place at the table. "Come, cousin. If we are to do battle, at least dance with me before we dirty ourselves trying to prove who is the superior fighter."_

_When the two left to join the many on the dance floor, Éowyn took a long, slow sip from Luna's unattended wine goblet. "I do apologize for their behavior, Lord Elrond. They have been like this since we were children and it didn't help that Uncle would let her do as she pleased."_

"_No, it's quite alright," Elrond calmly reassured her, his mind racing with the possibilities of what she just told him. "King Théoden was not the only man to indulge Luna's adventures."_

_~End Flashback~_

He had shared his suspicions with both Lady Galadriel and King Thranduil and even they were at a loss to explain how such a thing was possible. They were all gathered to attempt to heal the damage Luna had done to herself; Thranduil was the one who sent the call for them to assist in aiding her. Gandalf had been silent throughout the discussion, but his eyes appeared to have held the answer in which they were seeking, yet he still kept quiet. It wasn't until Radagast arrived that they were given a clue to what circumstances had Luna in a comatose state:

"Oh, dear. I had warned her that her visits between her world and ours were too close. Far, far too close for her to withstand them." He puttered around her cot, digging in his pockets for something they couldn't discern.

"Radagast, dear friend." Lady Galadriel rested her hand on the shorter wizard's shoulder, "what do you mean by too close?"

"She must decide! It's not just the _where_ she has been meddling with, you know! It's the _when_!" He seemed to have found what he was searching for and it appeared to be a piece of blue agate the size of his fist. He held it just over her heart and mumbled something under his breath just as a faint wind from nowhere swept into the room.

Luna's hand moved of its own accord and latched onto the stone, her eyes flying open and dragged a shuddering breath into her lungs. Thranduil was quickly at her side, his hand supporting her back while she struggled to sit up and breathe normally. Radagast was quicker and took her chin in his hands, his eyes stared deep into her unseeing ones and it felt as though a great weight settled into the room. Before Thranduil could even voice his question of what was happening, Luna's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell back against the Elven King, her hand loosing her hold on the stone that now pulsed with an inner light. The earlier oppressive weight that was once in the room slowly dissipated and the pulsing light of the stone only grew stronger until the inherent color of the stone began to shift apart into lighter shades.

Almost like the shifting colors of the Arkenstone.

Gandalf gingerly picked up the stone and felt the power emanating from it; he had seen similar stones before at a certain Skinchanger's home. The stones he had seen there had far less magic than the one in his hand and as he focused on it, he could sense the power slowly leaving it.

"I see," he turned it over in his hands and handed it over to Lord Elrond. "I see now. The magic between Luna's world and ours converged within her, and Radagast here has helped her release it." He remembered the story Luna gave him of when she ferried Thrór and his kin to the Halls of Waiting and how Thrór said it was her magic within the Arkenstone that saved him. "Luna has been subconsciously expelling the excess magic since she was child into stones from Middle Earth. Only now she is much older and her visits more frequent."

"She hasn't been discharging the overflow of magics," Galadriel stated and placed a kiss on the unconscious woman's brow. "This is very worrisome."

"I will take her to Rivendell to recover," offered Elrond as he recalled how quickly she tended to heal on his lands.

"And I will come with you just in case," Radagast held Luna's hand much like a doting parent would. "While the roads may be safer now, I will not risk her coming to any form of harm."

None of them could risk her losing her; the cost was far too high.


	32. Crapulous

crap·u·lous  
_adjective_  
1) given to or characterized by gross excess in drinking or eating.  
2) suffering from or due to such excess.

"_No pauses. No spills."_

"_And no regurgitation!"_

"That's disgusting," her voice floated from behind him and nearly stopped his heart. He had grown used to her flitting in and out of his Uncle's halls ever since he was a boy, but she never failed to surprise him.

"Luna," her name came out in a huff as he watched the showdown between the Elf and Dwarf take place.

"Éomer," she stepped around his larger frame to stand beside him. "I see things have settled for the most part."

"For the most part, yes," he agreed and accepted the mug of ale from her. "Have you been to see Uncle yet? I see you've pilfered one of my sister's gowns."

"To be fair, they fit me first, and not yet. I intend to mingle and observe for a bit now that the rot as fled from these halls."

"Try not to break any fingers this time. These men just returned home from battle." He remembered the last time she stopped by for a visit: one of the men got a bit too close for both his and Luna's liking, but Luna had been trained by many a soldier and defended herself quite well.

Her nose crinkled just a little bit when she grinned back at him.

"I make no promises."

Éomer rolled his eyes and tipped the mug of ale back. He felt he was going to need it tonight.

._._._._._.

"_Westû Aragorn, hal."_

Aragorn wondered just what he was getting into when he walked away from the bright-eyed shieldmaiden.

"She fancies you, Thorongil."

He nearly jumped out of his skin!

"I despise when you do that. The twins used to do that to me." He muttered under his breath as slender arms encased in loose, royal blue sleeves embraced him.

"Nevertheless, you should not lead her on so." Luna breathed in the warm scent of him, satisfied that he had returned alive.

"I am just being nice and she has no claim on my heart. I give service to all the people of Rohan as I have done in the past."

Rolling her eyes, Luna stepped back and placed her hands on her hips. She was delighted to see the great man before her flinch.

"Make sure she knows that. I have half a mind to visit your Beloved tomorrow evening to let her know that you live."

"Ah…But…Luna, please. Let's not be hasty!"

It was a rare sight if anyone was paying attention. There were few that could make Aragorn sputter like a child caught in the act.

"You listen here, _Estel,_" his name was a low growl in her tone, "part of my childhood was spent training and protecting Éowyn from others and even from her own foolish heart. You _will_ make it clear that before this war ends, your interests lie elsewhere and that you are _very_ _sorry_ you unintentionally lead her to believe otherwise!"

"But I—"

"And if you fail to do so, so help me I will abduct Lord Elrond from his study and personally bring him to you, so you can explain just _why_ you have gained the attention of another woman who is _not_ Arwen!"

"Yes, Milady."

._._._._._.

"_Oh, you can search far and wide,  
You can drink the whole town dry,  
But you'll never find a beer so brown,_

_Oh, you'll never find a beer so brown,_

_As the one we drink in our hometown,  
As the one we drink in our hometown,  
You can keep your fancy ales,  
You can drink them by the flagon,  
But the only brew for the brave and true…  
…Comes from the Green Dragon!"_

Luna clapped her hands enthusiastically from where she sat beside King Théoden. They had just been catching up on his victory at Helms Deep and how truly unfortunate it was that Gríma could not redeem himself.

"Enough of this talk of war, my dear girl. Have you settled your affairs?" Théoden was one of the few privy to Luna's secrets; after all, he trusted her with the lives of family and had to know she would stand by her word. So when he stood on the great walls of Helm's Deep and awaited the oncoming army of Uruk-hai, she had appeared to him as an apparition. He faintly noticed that she only appeared to him in such a way when she was at her weakest, but he still appreciated the words she gave to him.

"_If the enemy breaks through, I will stand beside my shield-sister and protect your people."_

Before he could reply his thanks, the horns of the Elven company sounded their arrival, and Luna was gone from his side.

But the affairs he spoke of were something he knew was eating away at her inner strength. He had always known that she would outlive him, but to actually know that she would outlive them all…

Luna nodded jerkily and laid her head on his shoulder, much like she used to when she was a child.

"I am just like my mother. I have dabbled in such magics that I should have left alone."

**A/N: I had originally written this back in January, but I held off on posting it since it makes more sense now that we've come this far in the story.**


	33. Circumvolve

cir·cum·volve_  
verb  
_to revolve or wind about

"You're leaving."

Luna's eyes widened and her hand paused for a moment before resuming in her writing. She never could hide anything from her One, and she truly never felt the need to.

"I don't have a choice, Fíli. Neither world can contain me for much longer." It was true; her last talk with the Lady Galadriel all but confirmed that her continued existence spelled out a complete deconstruction of both worlds.

Fíli ran his hands through his wife's braids and tenderly kissed her brow. "At least we had a good run then, yeah? Thorin and Bilbo are the best ruling couple in all of Middle Earth, Thranduil actually tolerates our existence—"

"—Kíli grew a beard." She added with a smirk that had her husband throwing his head back in laughter.

"Oh aye, but only after Tauriel told him she was with child." And what a surprise that had been since Kíli had to be picked up from the floor after he had fainted onto it. Currently, Tauriel was officially bed-ridden until further notice according to her paranoid and over-protective husband.

When their laughter subsided, Luna let herself be led to their bed where she curled up against her Beloved's side, the top of her head snugly tucked under his chin.

"What do I do, Fíli?"

"You know I can't tell you what you should do. That's still for you to decide, my love. But whatever choice you make, know that wherever you go, my love for you will follow."

._._._._._.

"I've lived long enough," she whispered into the dark of their bedroom, the only other sound was that of hers and her husband's breathing. She had lived well-past what should have been her expiration date and she was all too aware of the price that was paid in order to do so. It damn near broke her heart when the price of her reckless magic usage became apparent. As it was, her sense of touch had started to numb and she could barely feel the warmth of those she loved when she would embrace them. However, there was very little she would change if she could go back and do it all over again. Based off her correspondence with Radagast, she was far beyond the point of salvation. Before the Battle of Dale, she still had the ability to choose a world to live out the rest of her days in so the magic could settle, but now…

Had she not returned to prevent the fall of both Dale and Erebor, she still would have had a chance to live longer.

As quietly as she could, she shifted out from under her One's arm and breathed in his scent. Closing her eyes, she reflected back on their entire history together. From that first night at the Party Tree, to the day he presented her with a Courting Bead, and to tonight when, before sleep claimed him, he swore on all the treasures of Middle Earth that no matter where she went, he would always find a way to be at her side once more.

"I love you," she mumbled and felt herself slip away. Fíli, their bed, and their room broke apart and floated away as if she were in a dream; a most pleasant dream that she knew it was time to wake and depart from. So when the world decided to right itself, and low rumblings of her passage back into her own world subsided, she opened her eyes and now lay at the base of the Veil.

The ancient artifact was one of the few in the Wizarding World that could withstand and absorb her power and it was the one place where her thoughts could quiet themselves. She had first noticed the odd yet peaceful silence amidst the battle with the Death Eaters. Battle had always been a soothing balm to her tormented heart; years of seeing her many loved ones through the hardships of living in Middle Earth had forced her to develop her "Loony Lovegood" persona. It was her primary way of coping before she discovered her Animagus forms.

But the Veil…

Somehow, she always knew she would return to it. Sirius' spirit and nodded at her from beyond the gossamer curtains before they had left the Ministry. His was not the only spirit to communicate through gesture with her; various spirits of both the Wizarding World and Middle Earth were the reason why she had come out relatively unscathed.

"_You are well-loved by all,"_ Lady Galadriel had once told her and it seemed those words carried their weight between the realms. And it was time to pay all those she loved back for their never-ending faith and generosity.

Steeling her nerves, she got to her feet and took a step towards the Veil. The grand archway trembled in response and the ghostly curtains began to part.

"_My life, willingly given, for theirs."_

She could see the faces of her parents, their smiles sad yet proud. Two Kings stood beside them, looking healthy and hale compared to when she had last seen them.

"_My magic, given by love and sacrifice, to be shared."_

The shorter of the two kings stepped forward, his ghostly hand reaching through the Veil, and felt tears of happiness fill her eyes. With the last of the spell in her heart, she threw herself into the waiting arms of those who had raised her.

"_As the last Lovegood this is my will, so mote it be."_


	34. Derring-do

der‧ring-do  
_noun_  
daring deeds; heroic daring

"Dearest Luna, we are so proud of you." Her mother and father kissed her face and held her. She looked exactly how she remembered them before they died and it only made her want to cry harder. This really did mean it was the end for her and that she truly had died and…

Théoden brushed aside her tears, "You've done well, my sweet girl, my bravest of Shieldmaidens and guardian of those closest to my heart."

Luna shook her head and a weak laugh escaped her. "Your family is my family, My Lord. I would have laid down my life a thousand times over for the House of Eorl."

"My dear girl, I want to say you'll never have to, but knowing you, you'll do it again regardless." Théoden had always seen Luna as the daughter he never had. If not for his son Théodred and his sister's children, she would have easily been named his successor.

His fellow King beside him was of the same mind; something he had boasted about quite often while they waited for her arrival. Speaking of which, Thrór was waiting quite patiently for his turn to praise and comfort the Treasure of the Realms.

"Is this death? Luna questioned as she looked around at the bright landscape that surrounded them. "Or is there more?"

"Ah-_hem!_" Harrumphed the former King of Erebor. "Come now, Dear Heart. We have much to discuss you and I."

"Thrór!" Luna practically threw herself at the old dwarf with enough force to rock him back on his heels. It had been decades since she had last seen him, but this was certainly unexpected. From what she remembered from her Khuzdul lessons with him, the deceased of the different races did not reside in the same Halls. When she said as much, her old friend nodded in confirmation.

"Aye, that is true. But yours is a special case. For all that you've done for the people of both realms, the Valar have granted you a great gift. You have the choice of moving on to the afterlife with your parents, or you can be reborn into Middle Earth. Mind you lassie, but it will be very different than the Middle Earth you left behind."

"I…I need to sit." Luna gulped and staggered back into the chair that suddenly materialized behind her. She had known that the prolonged use of the untamable magic would tear her body apart and that her soul would move on, but never had she expected the chance to be reborn nor given the opportunity to do it all over again.

Théoden was at her side, murmuring soothing words of comfort, much like he had done when she was a little girl. Just hearing his voice helped calm her frazzled nerves and allowed her to think more clearly.

"How…how different will it be? Will I still be able to make friends with everyone again?" _Will I get to be with my One again?_ went unsaid, but the words were in her eyes behind a film of tears ready to fall again.

Thrór's naturally hard stare softened as he took her trembling hands into his own. "Aye, Dear Heart. All that and more. You will retain your memories of your past life if you so choose to, but the memories may be more of a burden than a blessing. Most of the people you knew will have no memory of you, but a select few will remember; they will be your guides should you falter and become lost."

"This is…when do…how much time do I have to decide?" Luna's thoughts were running a mile a minute. She still had so many questions, but a part of her was ready to start over and have her own adventure once more. She was getting a chance to live again where magic wasn't going to kill her in the end. _Speaking of which…_

"Will I still have my magic?"

Her parents sat in conjured chairs beside her and smiled reassuringly. Her mother kissed her temple and shushed her. "Don't fret now, Dearest. Your magic has always and will always be a part of you. It will just be a different kind this time around; you won't be able to do the great feats its assistance granted you in the past, but you'll still be able to spread your wings and soar when the time is right."

"She's right, you know." Her father fiddled with the ends of his hair, "There isn't too much to worry over, but you can still take your time to decide. The Valar won't proceed until you're ready to. After all, we have all the time in the world right now."

Luna nodded in understanding. She knew she would be alright for the most part. If it was one thing Luna knew how to do, it was handling unexpected news that held dire consequences as a result of her actions.

"I think I will do it, but first I…" she looked to Thrór, her eyes brimming with tears.

The old dwarf rolled his eyes at her and sighed. "Go on, it's alright. There's no need for you to be as stubborn as my idiot grandson and bottle up all your feelings. Your friends Belladonna and Bungo Baggins often tell me how unhealthy it is," he grumbled but nonetheless opened his arms to her.

At his words, Luna finally let herself go. She cried over the joy of seeing and hearing from those she had lost in the past. She cried over how she had left Fíli and her family of Dwarrows behind, and her loved ones across Middle Earth who hadn't yet realized it was her time to go.

"There now, Dear Heart. You'll be able to harass Thranduil even more after spending years finding out what makes him tick—Ouch!" Thrór coughed harshly when Pandora Lovegood's elbow jabbed him in the ribs. "What? It's good for him!"

Luna only cried harder and buried her face in her hands. There was just so much she would be leaving behind and she didn't know how ready her heart would be to do it all over again.

"Och, woman! Stop hitting me with your pointed joints!" Thrór roared at Pandora, who was now jabbing him with her index fingers, determined to punish him for making her daughter cry. Théoden and Xenophilius were chatting quietly nearby, discussing the trials and tribulations of being single fathers. The entire situation was so surreal that Luna found herself wiping her tears from her cheeks with the sleeves of her shirt and chuckling over the scene before her.

If she had even considered moving on with her loved ones, then this would surely have been her Heaven.

**A/N: Omg…it's done! At least **_**this**_** story is. I have been dying to finish so I can write the next in the series. Yes, I said series. I have **_**plans**_** and I'm hoping you all will stick around to check it out and give me feedback. I'll be posting an informational piece after this chapter to fill in some gaps before I start outlining what's coming next. I'll see you all soon!**


	35. Luna's Timeline

**A/N: ****As previously mentioned, this is an informational piece. I have stated in the past that the chapters in this story were not in chronological order, but here is the correct order according to Luna's lifespan.**

Chapter Order—According to Luna's Timeline

1\. Contiguous

2\. Triumvirate

7\. Totem

3\. Phenom*

5\. Venerable

8\. Noetic

19\. Beforetime**

26\. Taradiddle***

4\. Eire

9\. Guile****

13\. Transfigure

21\. Vinous

10\. Boondoggle

11\. Hokum

20\. Clairaudience

23\. Interosculate

24\. Grok

30\. Fiddlestick

14\. Arsy-varsy

16\. Wildling

6\. Susurrant*****

27\. Wroth Part 1

28\. Wroth Part 2

29\. Livid

30\. Sparge

12\. Ambulant

22\. Cogitation

25\. Pariphrasis

17\. Vernacularize

18\. Chutzpa

32\. Crapulous

31\. Ad Hockery

33\. Circumvolve

34\. Derring-do

*Luna begins 1st year at Hogwarts

**Luna's 4th year at Hogwarts (pre Dept. of Mysteries battle)

***Summer before Luna's 5th year

****4-5 years after Battle of Hogwarts

*****Luna's age is around 23-24 years (this also takes place in Laketown)


End file.
